


Snap

by SummerRunaway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 AU, Season/Series 06, Soulless Sam Winchester, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerRunaway/pseuds/SummerRunaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed he had completely forgotten <i>what</i> was killing him, not just who. Or, in fact, if it was killing him at all.</p><p>When Gabriel is dragged away from the brink of death by an experiment he never thought would work, he doesn’t back Sam to be alive and kicking too - though the circumstances in which he is alive is even more confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my work for 2015's Gabriel Big Bang!
> 
> First of all, I would like to thank my artist and personal cheerleader, [tkodami](http://tkodami.tumblr.com), who did that spectacular art for this piece of fanfic! I would also like to thank my friend Hannah, for being the beta for this horrible piece of writing :P
> 
> I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.
> 
>  
> 
> [Art Masterpost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3868033)

Pain drove deep into his abdomen, ripping through him. A single icy hand cupped his face, while another gripped the hilt of the silver blade. His breath hitched, then began to come in short, desperate gasps. His hands clutched at anything that could keep himself upright, digging his fingers into fabric, and underneath, skin and blood and bone that should have radiated human warmth, but instead was as cold as ice. His assailant muttered words to him that he could not quite comprehend. It was like he was underwater, unable to hear his aggressor’s voice.

However, he could feel the meaning of the unknown words, each emotion radiating from the other presence in waves, bowling him over again and again, unexplainably powerful and overwhelming. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but he could stare.

So he stared. He tried to muster a vicious glare, but his lips refused to set together and his eyes could only gaze pleadingly into the pale blue of his only companion in the room. He hated it, looking so betrayed and almost begging for another chance at life, but maybe he thought it was for the best. For millennia he had avoided his family (and more importantly, his feelings), hiding his past with his trademark smirk and dance of eyebrows. But tonight he had faced his family, no matter how useless an attempt, and now it was time to face the feeling of vulnerability and fear that he had buried for so long.

At least he wasn’t dying alone. His Trickster façade had faded, but he still wanted to be remembered. He didn’t want to be another faded legend; a possibility. He wanted to be a vivid fairy tale with magic and monsters and daring heroes. He didn’t want to be known as ‘the guy that told the Virgin Mary she was knocked up’, though he had to admit, making a cameo in The Bible was a pretty impressive feat. He wanted to be known as so much more. ‘Victim of the Apocalypse’ had a nice ring to it. ‘Runaway whose past caught up with him’, however less glamorous, was unfortunately more fitting.

Someone _would_ remember this; have the chance to pass the story on, but he knew his attacker would not. They wouldn’t twist the story, wouldn’t lie, but hiding certain details wasn’t lying-

His train of thought was cut off as the blade twisted abruptly. The pain doubled and he could feel the warm tingling on the tips of his wings, which soon blew up into overwhelming pain as flames licked at his feathers, acutely feeling as each feather disintegrated to ash, leaving only a skeleton of his former freedom.

The grip on him was released and white flashed across his vision, as if the grip he had on his killer was the only think grounding him, keeping death at bay. He screamed, his voice echoing through both Earth and Heaven, and fell back to the floor, arms and scorched wings spread wide.

His assailant rubbed his hands together, looking down at his victim with pity. He considered removing the blade from the body, but decided against it. “It seems you’ll be the one to test the theory, brother.” Lucifer murmured, before vanishing with two strong beats of his wings.

Time stretched onwards, Gabriel’s hollow vessel splayed on the floor, burnt remnants of the angel’s feathers floating up to the sky.

And suddenly, there it was.

Hardly visible, but it was there. Just a spark; a twitch of his lips. Somewhere, deep inside the recesses of his broken shell, a faint golden light bled through the tip of the silver blade, seeping through the torn flesh.

The spark flickered, then flourished.

Gabriel smirked.

 

It’s particularly hard to think straight when you’re dead, Gabriel thought in exasperation. Or even just when you’re _meant_ to be dead. Thoughts blur, words melt into each other, memories fading and brightening and overlapping – silence, then screams, then laughter, then sobs.

The blade had done all its work, the rest the archangel had to do on his own.

First of all, he had to clear his head. _Concentrate!_

He began to weave through his memories, slowly and carefully, analysing each second he could remember.

The…arousing thoughts seemed persistent on surfacing first. Lips on his neck, finger trailing across his skin, following rises and dips of his muscles, hands tugging at his shirt, his hair…

_Not now, dumbass!_ This wasn’t the time. He needed something else…something with substance.

The next memories to come were of his brothers and sisters. He sifted through memories of love and peace like water, washing over him in gentle ripples. Then there was the anger, the slashing silver blades, the grace shining through cuts in skin…

_No!_ he fought against himself, panic bubbling precariously to the surface. He forced it back down. _No. Not destruction. I need hope._

Rain.

He frowned inwardly, processing the thought. _What?_

As he delved further, he realised it was real rain. Droplets of water spraying from the ceiling of a warehouse, holy fire flickering around him, slowly diminishing. 

The moment he had dropped his façade.

Three figures stood at the warehouse door, three pairs of eyes boring into his skin. One an electric blue, another a startling green. Their gazes were cold.

A flicker of sadness in the third pair of eyes made his heart leap. The eyes were a dark, murky green in colour, wavering with…what? Sympathy? Sadness? The soft eyes grew hard and the moment was broken. Three backs turned.

_Further, further._ He needed more.

He felt angry hands gripping his shirt, slamming him against the comically bright motel room wall, angry eyes boring into his own. Too bright. Too green.

_The wrong eyes._

A song started filtering through his thoughts.

_One look from you and I would fall from grace…_

Gabriel remembered.

A radio. The same song, over and over and over again, blaring through the small speakers. Aggressive dogs, falling pianos, speeding cars, funny tacos. Strawberry syrup on pancakes; another continuity error tearing his masterpiece to pieces.

And then.

He appeared in the dark room, smile wide and chin high. He had been caught – however willingly – but when he looked into the eyes of the man before him he realised he wasn’t too annoyed, unlike the first time he had lived through this. The second time, this very moment, in the image of pleading green eyes, he found his chance.

The spark engulfed him, energy coursing through his veins.

_Yes, YES._

This was it. Gabriel reached out.

_SAM!_

“What?”

Dean took his gaze off the road and glanced at his brother, confused. “Huh?”

Sam frowned back at him. “Didn’t you say something?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Nope. You were dozing off, Sam. Hearing things.”

Bewildered, Sam turned to Kali in the backseat. She was picking distractedly at the seams on her skirt, hair falling over her face and partially hiding her slightly reddened eyes. “Kali?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Kali replied in a strained voice.

“As I said,” Dean said with a grin, giving his brother a good-natured shove. “Hearing things.”

“Right.” Sam replied with a small smile. He glance out the window. “’Course.”

Now that he thought about it, the voice belonged to neither his brother nor the goddess in the backseat. It was vaguely familiar however, and the desperation in its tone slightly alarming. Like Sam was the last resort, the last chance. The only hope for…whoever had screamed his name at the top of their lungs.

Closing his eyes once more, Sam’s mind wandered back to Gabriel. He wondered what had made the energetic archangel change his mind. One minute, he was voicing his utmost refusal to join them in trying to kill Lucifer, but it seemed something inside him had snapped, and he’d decided to face off with his brother after all.

He remembered seeing Gabriel’s face as he, Dean and Kali left the room to escape. He had never truly regarded Gabriel as particularly scary, but in that moment, he’d seen Gabriel for what he really was. His usually soft eyes had sharpened like flint, golden irises so bright they could have been glowing. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he stood confidently, archangel blade in front of him, any usual playful nature he had eliminated. Sam finally saw Gabriel as who he had been in Heaven – a warrior. A force that was meant to be feared.

As he dozed off again, Sam thought he was glad Gabriel was on their side.

_Had_ been on their side.

It was the morning after the Winchester’s escape. Sam had woken up to see the sun shining through the windows of the Impala, miles away from Elysian Fields, and Dean told him that Kali had disappeared somewhere around five in the morning. It was now nine.

They were watching the DVD Gabriel had given them on Sam’s laptop, propped up on the roof of the Impala. Sam slammed the laptop closed as soon as Gabriel began taking his clothes off, and closed his eyes briefly, letting the realisation sink in.

He wondered where angels went after they died, if anywhere at all.

He hoped Gabriel was in his own version of paradise.

  



	2. Chapter 2

_It’s showtime, kiddo._

Sam stood at the edge of the Pit, wind whipping his hair into frenzy, his arms outstretched as if he were intending to fly.

Quite the contrary, actually.

He was intending to fall.

He glanced over at Dean, his face bloody and broken, and felt guilt shoot through him. He hadn’t beaten up Dean directly, but he remembered feeling to crack of Dean’s bones and Lucifer hit him again and again, relentless.

A few metres from Dean were Lucifer’s two other victims – Bobby lay on the grass, head twisted in an awkward angle, his face and body covered in the blood and flesh of the remnants of the angel, Castiel.

Lucifer snarled inside his mind. _All of the people you love, dead because of you. And now you’re getting what you deserve._

Sam thought back to all the people who had died for this cause. It wasn’t just Bobby, wasn’t just Cas. There was Jo, and Ellen, who were like a mother and sister to him. There was Ash, who had died way too soon. There was Pamela, who hadn’t even wanted to get involved in the problem, and yet pulled in anyway. There was Andy, and Jake, and Ava and Lily and Max, the other special children. There was his father, his mother, and even his grandparents, taken by Azazel years before Sam was born. 

There was Jess, the woman he loved with all his heart, the woman he had been searching for wedding rings for the day before Dean came to Stanford and turned his life upside down.

There was Gabriel, an angel who wanted nothing but to stay as far away as possible from the war between his brothers, yet changed his mind.

All dead.

All for the Apocalypse.

_Getting what you deserve, Sam._

He felt Adam – no _Michael_ – grabbing at his jacket, trying to pull him back from the edge. He clutched Michael’s arms, and let his feet slip. He could hear Lucifer cackling inside his mind, could see Michael inside Adam’s body tumbling over the edge.

Together, all four fell.

  


His vessel was unmovable, as was his Heavenly form from inside of it. His wings were nearly non-existent, nowhere near strong enough to carry even his true form to Heaven, let alone his vessel, for faster healing. He wouldn’t dare go there anyway, he realised. He had been gone for so long, and to return with his soul ripped to shreds, his life simply hanging by a thread, he was sure he would get at least one snide remark along the lines of “I told you so”, or even a blatant decline of his return to Heaven. His sheer pride and stubbornness would never let him come back.

So he sat inside his vessel’s head, replaying his millions of years of life in his mind like flicking channels on a television, except all that was on was repeats. So after what could have been seconds or days or months, he decided – tentatively – to stretch his grace. He hadn’t done so since dragging himself from the edge of death. It used up extreme quantities of energy, which had dwindled to a minimum upon everything except his blade’s emergency supply being destroyed. Grace – when you had your own – was endless in the way blood cells were endless, continuously multiplying and growing as some were lost.

He was nervous about burning out all his remaining grace and truly dying this time, but he decided to take the chance. He wanted to check up on Sam, and yeah, he guessed his pig-headed older brother too, to see if they had escaped alright. Maybe they even had information on Kali. But he’d go to Sam’s head. He had saved Gabriel’s life, after all, though in a very roundabout way wherein he didn’t even know what he had done.

_Sam?_

Instead of the soft voice of his intended receiver to his call, a very different, terrifyingly familiar voice snarled into his subconscious. _It seems your little trick worked, brother._

_Lucifer?_ Gabriel, still slightly disconnected with the body he was residing in, felt his vessel’s stomach lurch.

_Too bad you can’t enjoy the party inside your little boy toy’s head._

A sense of panic was growing urgently inside of him. There was no other way Lucifer could have heard him unless he was tuned into Sam’s thoughts. Which was only possibly if…

_He said yes._

_Isn’t that what you wanted?_ Gabriel could _hear_ Lucifer’s smirk. _It was his destiny, after all, little brother_

_It didn’t have to be._

Sadness gripped Gabriel’s thoughts. He’d let the Winchesters down. He’d been useless in the fight – avoiding it until the last possible moment, and only then he’d only stalled his brother, postponing the inevitable, and pretty much got killed in the process.

_I must admit, I’m happy you’re alive._ Lucifer’s voice cut through his thoughts. _Your experiment worked. I’m proud of you._

Gabriel seethed. _Says the one who stabbed me._

It had to be done, Lucifer said dismissively. _So, what are you going to do now, Gabriel? How about you come find me? Find us, your brother and your precious friend. Let’s go for Round Two. See if you’re any more inclined to kill me in this vessel._

_I can’t, brother._ Gabriel murmured, thinking of his damaged vessel, healing so very slowly.

_Can’t or won’t?_

It scared him, made him flinch – the same phrase used by Dean to persuade him to fight his brother in the first place. But this time, it was different. It really was a _can’t._

And so he said so. _I can’t, Lucifer_

_You care less about this young man than I thought. ._

Gabriel felt his grace flaring. _I do care!_

_Maybe you do. But not enough. You don’t care about anyone enough, you simply run around, only thinking of yourself. You only took interest in this man for your own selfish purposes – just a little entertainment, flirting with a chance of profanity. Well, too bad. Life’s just a game to you, isn’t it? Well guess what? You lost. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Meanwhile, I’ve got Mayfair – on a leash. And only when it’s taken does it make you realise that was the property you needed to stay above water._

_Lucifer—_

_Stop._

Gabriel was taken aback by the sudden command. There was a certain strain in his brother’s voice, like he was containing panic.

Then,

_It seems this pretty little vessel isn’t too weak after all._

The voice was fainter, but it sounded like it was shouting, desperate to be heard.

_What have you done?_ Gabriel demanded. _What happened?_

_He’s taken back control, thanks to your distractions, along with that bastard brother of his. It seems like we don’t be able to talk for a very long time, brother. Nor will you be able to chat to little Sammy. Unless you can find a way into the Cage._

Gabriel felt his vessel’s breath catch in his throat.

_Goodbye, my dear broth—_

His voice died out, as if a radio transmission had suddenly been cut.

His brother was gone.

And so, it seemed, was Dean’s.

“That was certainly smart of you, Winchester,” Lucifer smirked as he patted himself down. Though no longer needing a human form, he had reverted back to looking like his former vessel, without the scabs scattered across his skin. Nearby, Adam and Michael were lifting themselves to their feet, Michael’s form looking similar to Adam’s and yet so much like Dean’s as well, which made Sam’s stomach tighten with unease.

Sam whirled around in a quick spin, observing the space around him. The Cage was an endless black, but Sam could see everyone clearly, as if there was light everywhere but nowhere. His heart hammering, he could feel panic rising in his chest, fear coursing through his veins, cold as ice.

“Good idea, getting my wonderful baby brother to distract me for long enough to get you back in control of your head.” Lucifer tapped his right temple with his index and middle fingers, before reaching over and patting Sam on the shoulder. “I applaud you.”

Sam whipped his head around to face Lucifer, eyes narrowed with confusion. “What?”

“Gabriel, Sammy!” Lucifer hissed, and suddenly he was inches from Sam’s face, eyes boring into those of his former vessel’s. “My most cherished brother…somehow you got him to betray me. You need to be congratulated for your talent of persuasion. Maybe he cared about you more than I first realised.”

“Maybe he betrayed you because he wanted peace,” Michael reasoned, but one flick of Lucifer’s wrist and Michael was silent once more.

“And now we’re stuck in here, Sammy, thanks to you and the teamwork of our brothers. Two humans, two angels – _archangels_ – and an eternity to pass the time.” Lucifer spread his arms wide, palms facing upward – if there was an upward, Sam thought with a dizzying discomfort. Then Lucifer came to halt, and his grin grew unnaturally wide. “Good you have me to show you around…show you what to do for fun around here.”

Suddenly, the Cage was filled with a flickering orange light – a fire that licked at Sam’s flesh and tore at his clothes. Lucifer rushed forward with an alarming speed and Sam felt an arm plunge into his gut, and Michael and Adam backed away slightly as Lucifer’s cruel, taunting laughter mingled with Sam’s screams.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a slow process, healing his vessel and his true form simultaneously. Weaving gold into his feathers, slowly finding the mobility to pull the blade from his body to get started on healing his torn abdomen. Too eager to get back on his feet, he forgot to save some of his slowly replenishing grace – as soon as he had enough to work with, he’d quickly use almost all of it up on helping with the healing process, then fall back into exhaustion, cursing to himself as he waited, terribly bored, for his endless energy bar to crawl up an inch or two, before starting the process again. He reasoned it would probably be faster if he healed slower, saving more grace, but as soon he had enough vigour to continue, he’d forget about being careful and the grace would quickly diminish to a minimum.

Every now and then, he would try and reach out into the world outside his head, outside the – once again – slowly crumbling Elysian Fields Motel. First, he’d try Sam and Lucifer, knowing the result before a barrier rose up in front of him, confirming the silence he expected. He would then try to contact Dean, but all he could get from the older Winchester were mingling waves of grief and the simple feeling of peace, which intrigued the archangel. 

Finally, he would try to find his only other chance – God. But his Father was never listening, though if He was, He’d never reply, or do anything to help Gabriel’s agonisingly slow healing process. Gabriel wondered if He cared at all. Maybe He’d been ashamed of His children, along with what the humans were doing with the world. Maybe He’d moved to another galaxy, another planet, created a new Heaven, new angels, more beings for His children to serve. Maybe there was another Michael, another, more obedient Lucifer, another Raphael somewhere. Possibly even another Gabriel, though why God would want to create another runaway trickster would be anyone’s guess. Maybe the new Gabriel was braver, more loyal.

It was weeks before he was fully connected to his vessel – it was no longer opening his vessel’s eyes, curling his vessel’s toes. It was no longer _his vessel_ , it was just _him._

It took exactly eight more days, six more hours, and two more minutes for him to stand up, to walk, to move, and to get hungry. He experimented snapping his fingers, and the pavlova that appeared before him was the most delicious thing his tastebuds had ever experienced (Australian desserts had always been his favourite). As an angel, he could taste each molecule separately, but he had trained himself to taste everything together. He wondered how all the other angels didn’t eat. They didn’t know what they were missing out on.

He couldn’t yet fly properly, so instead he found himself holding his thumb out to every car that passed him on the street, until one picked him up and them dropped him off at the closest town.

He’d stayed in the town before, to cause some mischief to the residents, and knew his way around quite well. Conjuring money with his expert fingertips, he paid for one of the more expensive motels, ignoring the receptionist’s confusion over his lack of luggage. He had considered just creating his own luxurious room in an abandoned apartment, but after several failed attempts, he had abandoned the idea. _Not strong enough yet._

He’d stayed there an entire week, continuing to experiment with his powers and eat his own weight in food every day. By the time the week was up, he was all but fully recovered, slightly concerned with the stability of the objects he created out of thin air. More than once the food he had conjured had tasted horribly off (he still couldn’t get the hang of making the perfect-tasting bunch of grapes) and when he tried to replicate his _Doctor Sexy MD_ set, none of the actors had been able to speak. He wondered if he would ever be able to perfect his reality-warping powers ever again.

What he knew for sure that his time as the Trickster was over.

So he travelled – by plane mostly, his wings couldn’t yet take him across continents. He’d seen pretty much all of the icons, so instead he explored the smaller places – Hobbiton in New Zealand, the most amazing sweet shop in Norway, Scarlett Johansson’s house…

He settled in Australia. He worked at the theme parks in Queensland for a month, making every rollercoaster a tad faster and selling – plus stealing – a lot of fairy floss. He popped into a hospital in Adelaide once every few weeks, making tiny miracles happen, healing a select few terminally ill patients (he transferred these illnesses to the most particularly violent criminals nearby). He played Santa Claus at a shopping centre in Melbourne, hearing every child’s wish and making sure they came true on Christmas Day. He even helped with the New Year’s fireworks show in Sydney, giving it some extra special flair, sending star-shaped and heart-shaped fireworks into the air to add with the basic ones already firing.

It was a week after New Year’s Day, sitting on the scorching sand of Bondi Beach, that he heard the voice in his head.

_Gabriel?_ it called, and Gabriel heard a sigh in the back of his head. _I’m still not sure why I’m doing this._

Gabriel frowned as he bit into his eighth lamington. The voice was vaguely familiar – possibly a different accent to what it usually was, and despite his eagerness to reply, he stayed silent, waiting for the voice to continue.

_It’s okay, Gabriel,_ the voice chuckled and the archangel finally distinguished the British accent. _No other angels can hear us. I’ve created a…private line._

Obviously this angel knew Gabriel personally, for Gabriel was the only angel who had figured out to construct a private line on angel radio, and he had only told a few of his closer friends, including – Gabriel shuddered – Lucifer. At the idea of Lucifer possibly being the one talking to him, Gabriel stayed silent.

_Anyway,_ the mystery angel continued, _Heaven’s been saying you’re dead, but it’s not easy to kill you. I should know, I’ve tried several times._ Gabriel could hear the smile in his voice. _Right now, my friend…I need your help. Heaven’s a mess – it’s been divided in two. Without Michael around to keep everyone in line, we’re on the brink of a war, between Raphael and…do you know Castiel?_

Gabriel froze, before swallowing his bite of lamington and taking another, interest piqued. The dark winged, dark haired, Winchester angel? Trust him to stand up to Raphael.

The voice laughed. _There we go. Knew you weren’t dead._ Gabriel choked, realising too late that his thoughts had gone through to the angel on the other side. _So you do know him. Anyway, Heaven thinks you’re dead. Funnily enough, Heaven thinks I’m dead too. Faked a fall. But what they don’t know is…_ Gabriel could imagine the smirk stretched upon the other angel’s face. _Well, can’t tell you that over the phone. Meet me at my little mansion. Sending you a picture now._ Gabriel’s mind was suddenly filled with a picture of a large, intricately decorated house, and grinned in realisation. No other angel would choose such a flamboyant place to stay.

_I know who you are,_ he sent across to the other angel.

_Glad you haven’t forgotten me after a couple millennia,_ the other angel said. _Anyway, get your candy-laden behind over here in a couple of hours, and we can talk face to face, grace to grace._

Gabriel shook his head. _Still using that phrase?_

_‘Course. Anyway, I’ll see you then. Don’t bring backup, and don’t try to kill me. I promise the same for you._

_And you’ve never broken a promise before,_ Gabriel replied sarcastically, but the line had already been cut off, leaving Gabriel’s mind silent.

Stuffing the ninth and last lamington into his mouth whole, Gabriel brushed crumbs of cake, chocolate and coconut off his lap and stood up, stretching his wings out from being against his spine. This was going to be a long journey.

He hoped his wings were strong enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Upon entering the mansion, Gabriel expected chandeliers, diamonds, expensive paintings and beautiful Persian rugs.

He did not, however, expect to be swamped by the sound of a loud, smooth saxophone coming from an unknown source. Gabriel groaned at the sound and covered his ears. “Turn it off, you symphonic little shit!”

A thin, blond, middle aged man stepped out onto the landing on the second floor. “We never did have similar taste in music,” he sighed, before snapping his fingers to turn the music off.

Gabriel glared up at his brother. “If you can even call it music.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too, brother.”

“Balthazar.” Gabriel acknowledged grimly. “Got any expensive chocolate around?”

Balthazar chuckled, descending the staircase and snapping a box of chocolates into his hand. “I’ve been acquiring some just for you, brother.”

Gabriel snatched the box and popped three chocolates into his mouth at once, moaning at the taste.

“Please, Gabriel, keep your bedroom noises for the bedroom.” Balthazar sighed. “You were always…overly appreciative of food.”

In response, Gabriel made an even louder, more appreciative noise, then grinned around his mouthful of chocolate before swallowing. “Now,” he said, mimicking his brother’s English accent. “I believe we have business to attend to?”

The other angel shrugged. “Of a sort. More of a confession, really.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, grabbing another chocolate. “Ooh, do tell.” he grinned.

“Shall we get more comfortable?” Balthazar offered, before leading the archangel into the dining room, seating himself at the beautifully carved wooden table in the middle of the room. Gabriel plopped into the velvet cushioned seat beside him, dropping the box of remaining chocolates onto the polished wooden surface and taking two more. “Go on, then.”

“Always so impatient, Gabriel.” Balthazar said, exasperated. “And next time, please swallow before you speak. Anyway, as I told you during our call, I faked my death.”

Gabriel swallowed his chocolate, then smirked. “Learned from the best, I see.”

Balthazar ignored his brother’s interruption. “I faked a fall, but took advantage of it. Before I left, I acquired a couple of rare items, kept in Heaven.”

If Gabriel had had a chocolate in his mouth at that point, he probably would have spat it out in shock. “You _stole_ some of the Holy Trinkets?”

“As you so affectionately call them.” Smirking, Balthazar sneaked the last chocolate from the box, eliciting a glare from his brother. He then snapped a glass of champagne into his hand and took a small sip. “I’ve got the Staff of Moses, Lot’s Salt, and…the Horn of Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s face moulded into a grin, before leaning forward to swing his arm around Balthazar’s shoulders. “ _You_ ,” he said, poking his brother’s chest with his other hand. “Are officially my favourite brother.”

Balthazar clasped his hand to his heart. “I’m honoured,” he replied in mock awe, before pulling away. Gabriel then frowned in confusion.

“One question – why the hell are you telling me about it? If I was you, I’d keep my lips zipped and locked. Tight. But you’re just spilling your guts.”

“I was getting to that,” Balthazar said with a slight roll of his eyes. “I need your help.”

“So this is a business proposition.” Gabriel stated, raising his eyebrows. “Well, come on, what with?” 

“I told you about the war going on upstairs?” Gabriel nodded.

“Well,” Balthazar continued. “Heaven is in complete and utter chaos. If I hadn’t faked my death, I would have definitely been killed for real by Raphael’s gang because of my long lasting friendship with Castiel.”

“So you want Cassie to win?” Gabriel queried.

Balthazar nodded. “Precisely. Raphael leading Heaven would be…horrid, to say the least.”

Gabriel shuddered. “He’s a humourless bastard.” he admitted. “Definitely my least favourite brother.”

“He definitely was not good company the few times I spent time with him.” Balthazar agreed, before continuing. “Anyway, Castiel must win, not just for my safety, but for Heaven. That’s why I need your help in finding him. These… _Holy Trinkets_ …would give him a distinct advantage in the fight. I need to find a way of contacting him. That’s where you come in, Gabriel.”

“You can’t do it yourself?” Gabriel asked. “Why bring me into it? You said it yourself that you’re friends with him. We’ve only talked once.”

“I haven’t seen him in years, Gabriel, and he’s cut off all communication with any angel that has not voiced their allegiance with him in this fight. Including me, because obviously, he thinks I’m dead.”

“I think you’re forgetting he thinks _I’m_ dead too, Balthazar.”

“True, but I have never seen him on earth. You have. You know his vessel, and more importantly, you know his charges personally.”

Gabriel blinked. “The Winchesters? What’s this got to do with them?”

“He’s still assigned to them, you ape.” Balthazar said, exasperated. “He’ll still be watching over them. Well…Dean, anyway. Sam is in Hell, correct?”

Gabriel’s stomach twisted, and he nodded wordlessly.

“So,” Balthazar continued. “You find Dean. You talk to him. That’s how you can get to Cassie. If I went to him, he’d probably stab me on sight. You see why I need you on my side?”

“Kinda.” Gabriel admitted.

“Good enough,” Balthazar replied dismissively. “Now, will you please help me?”

Gabriel sat silent for a few moments, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll talk to Dean. Try to get him to talk to Cassie.” he grinned a little. “If he doesn’t stab me first, that is.”

“Thank you,” Balthazar’s face relaxed into a smile.

“On one condition, though!” Gabriel said sternly, holding up a finger.

“And that is?”

“More chocolate,” Gabriel demanded, and Balthazar chuckled, clapping his hands and refilling the box immediately, along with summoning a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

Gabriel grinned, popping the bottle open and filling the glasses to the top, then taking a piece of chocolate. “Now, Balthazar, it seems we have a deal.”


	5. Chapter 5

The large, well maintained house loomed in front of him, and Gabriel frowned, for once not trusting his wings.

_You sure he’s here?_ he asked himself. He’d expected a barely inhabitable motel room, with weapons spread out across the bed, and articles about suicides and missing persons taped to the walls. This pretty two story house with a well looked after garden was nothing like it.

That was when he noticed the two figures in the front yard. Immediately, he snapped his fingers, turning invisible.

One was young, possibly twelve or thirteen, with short dark brown hair and big brown eyes, and a baseball mitt in one hand. In the other, he gripped a baseball, before aiming and throwing it to the other man, who was, to Gabriel’s utter surprise, unmistakably the tall, dark blonde, green eyed figure of Dean freaking Winchester.

_What the hell?_ Gabriel felt his invisibility flicker under the shock. The power to camouflage into his surroundings had always been difficult, he’d have to consciously concentrate on staying translucent. One second of forgetting and suddenly he’d be very visible.

Dean caught the ball and smiled, giving the younger boy praise. He then threw back and the boy caught it with ease, and Dean took off his own mitt to give the kid an exaggerated round of applause. The boy shuffled his feet, the blush visible from the other side of the road. Then Gabriel’s gaze moved to the open garage door where he saw the unmistakable shape of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

_Again_ , Gabriel said to himself, _What. The. Hell?_

A woman poked her head out the front door, all wide smiles and dark hair like the boy. She called to them, and both looked up, and the boy tore his mitt off and threw it to the ground, jogging inside. Dean was slower, picking up the boy’s mitt and the baseball and tucking them under his arm as he walked towards the woman, giving her a quick kiss before following the boy into the house.

_Well, look who’s got a girlfriend._ Gabriel mused.

He considered infiltrating the house – invisible, of course – to investigate further, but decided against it, for privacy and all that. From what it looked like, Dean was no longer hunting, and had settled down into the calm of a family oriented, apple pie life. Sam had died and in return, Dean had decided to pretend everything was normal. Gabriel didn’t blame him—no, actually, now that he thought about it, he did. He was suddenly angry, wishing to storm into the house and confront Dean.

_Just because Lucifer’s done and dusted doesn’t mean there aren’t any more monsters out there! So what, Sam’s gone and you decide to slack off? Your brother jumps in the pit, and you value his memory by letting every other monster go wild and free?_ Unconsciously, Gabriel’s hands clenched into fists, arms pressed to his sides.

Losing his concentration, Gabriel’s invisibility flicked off, which didn’t really matter now that Dean and the boy were no longer in the garden, but it jogged the archangel back into reality. Realising how worked up he was getting, he relaxed a little, unclenching his fists. Now, he didn’t just want to reveal himself to Dean and confront him. He wanted to make Dean realise he could never escape the world he knew. He wanted to make it a hunt.

Gabriel smirked. He knew exactly what to do to make Dean pick up his gun and salt rounds.

It seemed he didn’t have to give up his role as the Trickster so quickly after all.

On the first day of what Gabriel had lovingly named ‘Attack Week’, the archangel glanced down at the list in his hand, trying to decipher his own barely legible handwriting, then grinned and stuffed it into his back pocket after memorising the first point.

_Demons._

Making sure the girlfriend and son – Lisa and Ben, Gabriel had quickly found out – were out, he snapped himself into the house.

Being Dean’s new residency, he expected it to be a dump, but it was surprisingly neat. Of course there were the usual small messes – a couple of glasses and plates on the bench in the kitchen, and books sprawled across the table in the living room – but overall it was nice and…liveable. Dean had really picked up his act with this woman.

And then came Dean, bursting through the garage door, wiping the oil on his arm onto the raggedy towel, and then wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead. He hopped up the stairs, taking two at a time, and Gabriel followed him onto the landing, quickly stopping when he realised Dean was making his way to the bathroom. Sure, Dean was a nice-looking dude, but Gabriel did _not_ want to take a peek at his nether regions.

He waited twenty minutes for Dean to leave the bathroom, freshly showered and his hair sticking up wildly, and Gabriel grinned as he made his way into his room and frowned, sniffing.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the lights in the room started flickering.

Dean whirled around, eyes wide. “Shit,” Gabriel heard him whisper, and the archangel was so very tempted to turn himself visible to reply with a, “Watch your language, young man.”, but decided against it as Dean ran to the window, dragging his finger across the sill and bringing it to his nose.

“ _Shit_ ,” he said again, and Gabriel knew he had recognised the scent of sulfur. He ran to his bedside table, wrenching open the small drawer and taking out the knife that Gabriel was sure was the one that one of his past lovers had crafted for him to help kill demons during a time when his power was mysteriously diminished. How it had gotten into Dean’s hands, Gabriel didn’t know.

Without realising, Gabriel snickered, and Dean whirled around to look past his invisible form. _Crap. Better not do that again,_ Gabriel muttered to himself, before willing the lights to stop flickering and the scent of sulfur to dissipate, before he snapped his fingers once more and landed right outside the house.

He took out his list, grabbed a pencil from nowhere, and crossed off the first name on the list.

  


As the week continued, Gabriel went through the works.

On the second day, Dean saw the newspaper article on the mysterious killings of three drug dealers, who had had their hearts ripped from their chests. Gabriel could hear the thoughts whirring through Dean’s head. _Werewolves?_

On the third day, two teenage boys had had their bodies sucked dry of blood, and it was the main headline on the television news program that night. Dean’s back had straightened immediately. Gabriel crossed _Vampires_ off the list.

The fourth and fifth days included of clues towards ghost possession and a shapeshifter. On the sixth day, a ‘ghoul’ snatched the particularly grouchy couple who lived in the house across from Dean.

On the seventh day, the former hunter found a hex bag under his pillow. The reaction, Gabriel thought, smirking, was simply priceless.

His smile grew wider when he watched Dean open up the trunk of the Impala and begin to clean his weapons.

On the eighth day, Gabriel sighed as he threw his forty-eighth candy wrapper behind him. Outside, the warehouse looked like it was falling apart, but inside, he had crafted it into a lavish dining room, not unlike the one in Balthazar’s home. He’d planted clues in almost every direction Dean could turn, all of them pointing to this one place. He’d been waiting here for hours, anticipating Dean’s arrival.

At the sound of the warehouse door creaking open, Gabriel sat up, and a lollipop materialised in his hand. He closed his eyes and shoved it into his mouth, taking a long suck before pulling it out and drawling, “Finally got the hint, kiddo? Well, it’s nice to see you too, D—“, he lazily lifted his eyelids and stopped short at the figure in front of him.

“Gabriel?” the man dropped his arms to his sides, tucking his gun away.

Trying not to act like he was caught off guard – which he was – Gabriel grinned and swung his legs off the table. “Sorry if I’m not jumping over the moon to see you, kiddo. I was expecting the _other_ Winchester.”

“Too bad.” Sam simply rolled his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

“So,” Sam sat at the table, opposite Gabriel, who raised his eyebrows.

“So?"

“You’re meant to be dead,” Sam stated as if that wasn’t the most obvious thing.

“You’re meant to be in the Cage,” Gabriel pointed out.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Touché.” 

They sat like that for a few moments, before Sam broke the silence again. “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How’d you come back to life?”

“How’d ya sneak outta hell?”

The hunter shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, neither do I.”

Sam chuckled humourlessly. “You are insufferable. Now spill.”

And he nearly did. Gabriel only just stopped himself from talking about his grace and his blade and the healing process, but decided against it. Spilling his secrets at the first sight of the hunter – his saviour – was not a good thing to do.

“Sorry, a magician can’t reveal his tricks.” Gabriel replied with a smirk, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Sam sat back. “Then tell me this – you said you were expecting Dean. Why?”

“Nosy little bastard, aren’t ya?” Gabriel snickered, before clearing his throat. “Well, first of all, I murdered a few buttwads, made ‘em all look like a creative array of various monsters had gotten to ‘em, and made sure all the clues were laid out for Dean in plain view to point towards...” Gabriel gestured around him. “As it happens, it seems they were in too plain a view, as they attracted the attention of not Dean, but of his younger, surprisingly better looking brother.”

“Surprisingly?” Sam scoffed, and Gabriel scowled.

“Is that all you got from my explanation? Jeez, you’re more thick-headed than I realised.”

Sam put his hands up in mock surrender. “No, I heard you. You pretended to be pretty much every monster _but_ a Trickster, not expecting Dean to give up the possible hunt and call Bobby, who, in turn called me.” he rested his elbows on the table, staring levelly at Gabriel. “But you haven’t answered my question. _Why_ do you need him?”

Gabriel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t need _him_ , specifically. The task could probably be completed by you, honestly. But what I needed him to do – need you to do, now – is bring Castiel’s feathery ass down here.”

He didn’t expect the reply in the form a snort. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

The archangel blinked. “Why not?”

Sam sighed. “Because I’ve tried. Several times. Said so many prayers they could probably fill up a book bigger than the Bible. He’s not coming, Gabriel.”

“Right,” Gabriel looked down at his hands for a second, before standing up. “Looks like we do need Dean after all.”

He jumped back as Sam stood up suddenly. “No.”

“What?”

“No.” Sam said, quieter than before. “Don’t go to Dean. Bobby told me not to disturb him. Something about ‘needing to live a normal life for once’. He shouldn’t get back into hunting again. He…” he sighed, looking down at the ground. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

Gabriel folded his arms and leaned slightly against the table. “Oh.”

Sam straightened up surprisingly fast, any hint of sadness disappearing in an instant. “So what are you gonna do now?” he asked.

The archangel pondered for a moment – he’d have to report back to Balthazar that he couldn’t get his hands on Castiel, but after that, he was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. But the flaw in that idea was the simple fact that he didn’t really know what he wanted.

Well, actually, when he looked up at Sam he knew what he wanted, knew what he needed. It felt wrong to ignore the way his grace had curled in pure _joy_ when he had realised that somehow, Sam was not only back from the dead, but had broken free from the seemingly inescapable Cage without a scratch. Gabriel knew he couldn’t go back to Australia, he knew as soon as he had laid eyes on the resurrected Sam that he couldn’t leave again, couldn’t let him escape again. The oversized hunter had saved his life, and Gabriel knew that somehow he had to stay close to him. Maybe someday he’d even confess to Sam the truth. 

“Can I hang around with you?” he asked eventually, and Sam blinked in surprise. “I could always, uh, help with hunting. You know, mega powerful archangel here could give you a major advantage now you’re hunting on your own.”

Sam made a small disbelieving noise and grinned. “Fine. You can stick around. But first thing you need to know – I’m not hunting alone.”

“Right, sorry, you got Mr Bearded Baseball Cap with you.”

“No, Gabriel,” Sam said, smile widening as Gabriel tilted his head in confusion. “I’m not with Bobby. The thing is…I’m not the only Winchester – well, Campbell – that’s come back from the dead.”

Gabriel cringed. “Sheesh. Am I meeting the family already?”

Sam grinned. “If you want to stick around, then yeah.”

The archangel sighed. “Darn. Well, let’s get this over with.”

  


“An angel.” Samuel Campbell folded his arms and frowned.

“ _Arch_ angel, actually,” Gabriel corrected. “Though I do also go by Loki or the Trickster.”

The woman Sam had introduced to Gabriel as Gwen stepped forward until she was nose to nose with Gabriel. “You expect us to believe that? We’ve never encountered angels before.”

“Well, your dear Cousin Sammy here has encountered possibly _too_ many in his short lifetime.” Gabriel shot back, and Samuel, Gwen, and two other men glanced over at Sam. A third man sat in the corner, was staring solemnly at the ground, but also looked up at Sam in curiosity.

He shrugged. “It’s true. Angels are kinda the reason Dean’s still kicking.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Well, seeing as demons exist, I guess angels are also a possibility.”

One of the other men piped up. “I’m not so sure.” he moved Gwen to the side to tower over Gabriel. “Give us proof.”

Sam began to open his mouth in protest but Gabriel flicked his voice away. “Okay,” he said with a sly grin. “I can give proof.” he lifted his arm and snapped his fingers, and beside Samuel, the second man collapsed.

The other four Campbells reacted instantly. Gwen gasped and rushed to her relative, while Samuel shoved the short angel against the wall and the other man drew a knife. The man in the corner stood up, bracing himself. Sam simply rolled his eyes as Gabriel’s eyes bugged out in mock surprise.

Gwen looked up, eyes wide. “He’s dead.”

Samuel grabbed the knife from the other hunter and pressed it against Gabriel’s throat, causing blood to seep from the small cut. Gabriel rolled his eyes and suddenly Samuel flew across the room and slammed into the opposite wall, dropping the knife. Gabriel brought the tips of his index and middle fingers to his neck, healing the wound instantly, before snapping his fingers again. The dead man’s eyes flew open and he drew in a loud, desperate breath.

Gabriel sauntered towards Samuel. “That proof enough, Sammy-boy?” he turned to the other three Campbells. “Well?”

He jumped as Sam’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Let him go, Gabriel. I think that was too much proof.”

The archangel pouted. “You hunters always spoil my fun,” he complained, then snapped Samuel off the wall. “So do you believe me now?”

All five Campbells nodded grimly, and Gabriel grinned. “Great! Now, may I please have a short recess? I’m late for an appointment.”

Nobody moved or spoke, then Sam muttered, “You can go, Gabriel.”

“Thank you for your oh-so-important permission.” Gabriel pretended to bow respectfully before disappearing.

“So he can be trusted?” Gwen queried after the angel left.

Sam nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I mean, he died for us.”

“Apparently, he didn’t.” Gwen pointed out, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“I think he’ll be good,” Samuel interjected.

“Seriously?” Johnny exclaimed. “He killed me!”

“He’s an _angel_ , Johnny!” Samuel argued. “He’ll help us find monsters.”

“How? He’s kind of the opposite of a monster.”

“And he’s also monumentally more powerful.” Samuel reasoned. “He’ll help us track ‘em down. He’ll be a good help for the cause. Right, Sam?”

Sam considered disagreeing with his grandfather. Besides finding monsters – _not_ killing them, just passing them on to someone else – Sam was in the dark about what ‘the cause’ actually was. But he folded. “Very good,” he approved. “He’s trapped Dean and I in several different alternate realities, including his very own rendition of _Groundhog Day_.”

“There.” Samuel finalised. “He can stick around. And nobody crosses him. Can’t have him kill one of us permanently.”

Gwen and Johnny nodded in assent, while Christian sighed, but made no protest. Mark, however, sat back didn’t make a sound.

“Mark?” Samuel prompted. “Problem?”

Mark shrugged. “No, I’m fine with him helping out. But we keep him at arm’s length. Can’t let him get close.”

“Good idea,” Samuel agreed, then turned to Sam. “Got that, Sam?”

Sam frowned. “Obviously.”

It wasn’t exactly easy to get close to Gabriel, who made sure to escape a situation as soon as it got too emotional. And in his mysteriously sleepless, ruthless state, Sam wasn’t going to poke ‘emotional’ with a ten foot pole.


	7. Chapter 7

“Well, that was unexpected,” Balthazar admitted as Gabriel stuffed his face with chocolates beside him.

“Mmhmmph.” Gabriel gave his muffled reply, and Balthazar looked at him pointedly. Reluctantly, the archangel swallowed. 

“So watcha gonna do now, Balthy?”

Balthazar shuddered at the nickname. “I don’t know. More importantly, what are you going to do, Gabriel?”

The archangel frowned a little, grabbing at another chocolate and unwrapping slowly. “Honestly? I dunno.”

“You know,” Balthazar suggested, “You could always go back up to Heaven. Not every angel has chosen a side – maybe you should run for Head Angel in Charge along Castiel and Raphael.”

Gabriel, who was just about to pop his chocolate into his mouth, put it back in its wrapper and set it back down on the table. “What?”

“You’re strong. You’re charismatic. You’d be a good leader.”

_No. No no no nononono-_ “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” Gabriel exclaimed, before taking a deep breath. “Balthazar, I left Heaven because of a war, and now you’re expecting me to return to lead the fight in a second one. You know I can’t do that.” He stared down into his lap, cheeks growing hot. “Not brave enough to be a leader.”

Balthazar sighed. “Okay, If you insist. Then I suggest you stick around with Sam and the Campbells. They’re expecting you to follow them around anyway, from what you’ve told me.

Gabriel tried to ignore his heart flip, and instead groaned. “I don’t want to be tethered to that hulk!”

The other angel gave him a knowing look. “Oh, please. You were going to do that anyway. Honestly, I think it’s a good idea for you to keep tabs on the newly resurrected Winchester. Cassie may just check up on him.”

“But why can’t you do it?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Then introduce yourself!”

“I’d rather refrain from fraternising with humans for as long as possible, thanks,” Balthazar shot back. “Anyway, I have some plans.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Like what?”

“The details haven’t been sorted yet,” Balthazar admitted, “But it is going to be an incident of… _titanic_ proportions.”

“I don’t want to know what that means,” Gabriel said with a grimace.

“Good, because you’re not going to,” Balthazar replied with a wink, and Gabriel groaned.

  


When Gabriel popped back into the warehouse they were meeting up in the next morning, Samuel raised his head from the newspaper he was reading and narrowed his eyes. Johnny, Christian and Gwen were already there, talking in the corner. Sam wasn’t there yet, and neither was the other guy…Mark, Gabriel remembered.

“I thought Sam told you Dean wasn’t gonna come round.” Samuel remarked in a dubious tone.

Gabriel frowned. “Yes, he did.”

“Then why are you going round actin’ like a shtriga?”

The archangel made a double take. “What?”

Gwen walked over to Samuel and peered over his shoulder to see the newspaper. “Kids are droppin’ all over the place, Gabriel. Couple of adults, too.” She raised her eyebrows in his direction. “It’s not you?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Johnny perked up, rubbing his hands together. “Seems we got a hunt here after all.”

It was then that Mark came in, followed by Sam, who Gabriel insistently tried to ignore. “What’s the monster?” Mark queried.

“Shtriga.” Christian replied shortly.

“Christ.” Mark shook his head in surprise. “Haven’t dealt with one of them in a while.”

Sam, however, got straight down to business. “We got the next target?”

Gabriel decided to intervene. “Woah, there! Slow down, Speedy Gonzales. We haven’t even found a pattern in the attacks. Which, I must add, there hardly ever _is_ a pattern with these sons of bitches – they find a kid, they suck the energy. They’re basically impossible to track.”

The long-haired hunter stared him down. “We should at least give it a shot. Anyone got a map?”

Sighing and snapping a large map of the town onto the wall, Gabriel wondered why Sam was suddenly all cold determination and uncaring eyes. Maybe Sam had been more affected by the Cage than the archangel had previously guessed, which wasn’t really surprising.

Gwen and Samuel immediately started comparing the addresses of the attacks, marking each affected house.

Christian scrutinised the map. “It went north, then started kinda curving around.”

“It’s in a spiral,” Sam said distractedly, tracing the line that Gwen had drawn, before looking past it, frowning. He looked over at Gabriel with a smirk. “And you said no pattern.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I said hardly a pattern,” he protested, pushing past the giant to look at the map. “It looks like it’s goin’ here next.” He pointed to a house in the middle of the spiral.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “No shit.”

Gabriel poked his tongue out at Johnny and the other hunter snorted. “What are you, five?”

“Try five _billion_.” Gabriel retorted, trying for a menacing step forward, before Sam planted a hand on the archangel’s chest and pushed him back. Gabriel tried not to let his thoughts linger on the warmth radiating across his chest.

“Gabriel,” he growled. “Don’t get worked up.”

This dark intent in his voice worked Gabriel up even more, but he did as Sam said and pulled back, keeping his eyes locked on Johnny’s glare. Samuel watched the exchange from his seat with fascination in his eyes, but Christian interrupted the stand-off.

“Anyone know why this house is being targeted?”

Broken out of the trance, Sam released Gabriel and walked stiffly back to the map, before letting out a quiet, “Oh, crap.”

“What?” Samuel asked, standing up.

Sam turned to them. “It’s going for Ben.”

“Ben?” Mark raised his eyebrows. “You mean the Braeden boy?”

Sam nodded, then glanced accusingly over at Gabriel. “The fake monsters you made must have tipped it off that Dean and the Braedens were prize targets and decided it wanted a piece.”

Gabriel felt heat rising in his cheeks and he turned away. He could feel Johnny’s smug gaze burning into his back.

“So we hunt it tonight?” Gwen asked.

Samuel agreed. “We hunt it tonight.”


	8. Chapter 8

Standing with his eyes fixed on the map in front of him, Sam wondered if it wasn’t too late to join his cousins on the hunt at the Braeden house, despite Samuel’s orders. _Three’s enough for a shtriga hunt. Hell, I remember hunting one on my own back in the fifties, and we didn’t have half the technology we have now. This’ll be a piece of cake. Anyway, if Dean wakes us, he’ll recognise us. Lisa and Ben will recognise you too. We have to stay far away from there, boy. It was dangerous enough for us to come to this town in the first place,_ he’d commented when Sam questioned his decision. Sam hated having to miss out on a hunt, but it was for the good. 

Samuel was out somewhere; he said he’d go shopping, but he’d been out for much longer than he needed to be to stock up on food. He did that a lot, Sam had noticed, disappear for hours on end and return with a few shopping bags, claiming he’d gone ‘shopping’. Sam wondered if anyone else noticed the slight hint of sulfur he smelt on Samuel’s clothes. Maybe they just ignored it.

“Starin’ at something for long enough ain’t gonna make it dance, Sammich,” Gabriel remarked with the tell-tale sound of fluttering wings.

“Unless it’s you,” Sam replied without turning around. “You couldn’t sit still if your life depended on it.”

Gabriel snickered as he sidled up to the hunter’s side.

“You’ve certainly become wittier since you came back from the Cage,” he noted, then turned to the door. “So, when do we go?”

Sam finally decided to turn towards the angel. “ _We_ don’t.”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Samuel gave me instructions. If Dean or Lisa wake up, they’ll recognise us. We can’t let ‘em know either of us are here, or even topside.”

“Seriously?” Gabriel said in a voice that Sam could only describe as a fucking whine.

“Yes, Gabriel, seriously.”

“That’s boring!”

“You’re an archangel, Gabriel. You’ll find something to do.”

  


They’d been stuck in the room for almost an hour. Sam spent the time striking pins into the map, running his fingers over the newspaper on the table, and consulting his laptop, checking over any news articles to see if there were any possible hunts nearby. Bored out of his mind, Gabriel had popped into a sweetshop in New Zealand that specialised in outrageously large rainbow lollipops, and had swiped eight before flying back to Sam to torment him. After working his way through all of them and failing to persuade the hunter into giving him a piggyback, Gabriel had retreated to sitting cross legged in the corner of the room, humming lightly. Sam tuned him out, completely absorbed in his work.

Ten minutes later and concluding that no other creatures were hanging about town, Sam glanced over at Gabriel, only to freeze in surprise, for the angel was staring down at his hands, eyes narrowed in concentration, as a soft golden and blue light bled from his fingertips.

Gabriel didn’t seem to notice Sam’s staring in fascination, instead focusing completely on the streaks of light weaving between his fingers. Sam was tempted to call it beautiful, when really, it was much more. It was unreal, ethereal. Otherworldly.

Sam continued to watch as the light started to explore the rest of Gabriel’s body, skating across his arms and burying itself in his hair. The archangel sighed a little and began to hum louder, leaning his head back in content as the light continued to swell, until all Sam could see in front of him was a mass of undulating light, streaks of blue and gold chasing each other, consuming Gabriel completely. 

Sam took a single step forward. “Gabe?”

Suddenly, the humming stopped and the light vanished, only to reveal Gabriel, wide-eyed and blushing. “Oh—sorry. Distracted you.”

“Th-that’s alright,” Sam answered, and why the hell was he stuttering? “Was that your grace?”

Gabriel nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“But I thought angel grace was just blue.”

The archangel looked up with a slightly annoyed expression. “’M not just an angel, Sam. I’m a demigod. I’m a Trickster. I’m--”

The angel stopped suddenly, eye snapping upward and he drew in a sharp intake of breath. Sam frowned, stepping forward slightly.

“What is it?”

Gabriel stood up quickly.

“It’s your hunter friends.”

Gabriel hadn’t meant to let himself get that side tracked. He hadn’t wanted to let Sam in that far. And yet there he was, staring at Gabriel like he was some winning piece at a science fair. Gabriel hated it.

Also, where the hell had the name _Gabe_ come from?

And then he felt a lightning bolt of fear pierce his heart, and he had to cut the conversation short. Sam stepped towards him.

“What is it?”

Gabriel scrambled to his feet. “It’s your hunter friends.”

“What?”

“Shut up!” Gabriel snapped, glaring at the hunter. “I’ve been tracking their emotion and heat rates for a while, making sure they’re okay.”

“And?”

“Shut _up_!” Gabriel repeated. “I think they’re entering the house. I need to see them.” He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, and with his eyes still closed, Gabriel’s hand flew up and covered Sam’s mouth.

“Didn’t you hear me the first two times? _Shut. Up._ ”

Ignoring Sam’s indignant _hmph_ and the feel of the Winchester’s lips pressed against his palm, he felt his grace slowly drift from his body and reach towards the Campbell hunters and the Braeden house. It was alarmingly cold, which is what Gabriel guessed alerted the hunters that it was show time. Eyes closed, he could see with perfect clarity what they were doing now they were inside the house. Gwen motioned for Johnny to stay downstairs as she and Christian made their way to the second floor. Christian lifted up his gun as Gwen carefully opened the door to Ben’s room.

Gabriel felt the surprise, then relief coming off the pair in waves as they tried to process the fact that Ben was sleeping soundly. False alarm, it seemed. They started making their way down the stairs. 

What the humans were oblivious to, however, was the fear pulsing from someone else on the second floor.

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open and his hand dropped from Sam’s face.

“What is it?” Sam asked immediately, eyebrows furrowed.

“Not after Ben,” Gabriel said seriously, grabbing Sam’s wrist instead. “It’s going for _Dean._ ”

Grabbing a gun out of thin air and holding it out to Sam, he lifted his other arm and snapped, and the two landed in Dean and Lisa’s bedroom.

  


It only took a minute for Sam to assess the situation around him.

Lisa was standing in the corner, shoulders shaking. Her gaze was directed toward the ghostly creature at the bed, sucking Dean’s life force from him. She didn’t even question the sudden appearance of Gabriel and Sam in the room, she just looked at them pleadingly and whispered, “Please help.”

Her voice distracted the shtriga, whose eyes snapped up and landed on Sam’s. Sam immediately let go of Gabriel’s wrist and held up the gun, aiming squarely at the creature’s head as Gabriel grabbed Lisa’s hand and ushered her out of the room. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the shtriga to return to Dean. But it stayed hovering above his brother, staring at Sam hungrily, and that was when Sam realised what it was going to do.

The shtriga rushed for Sam, throwing the hunter onto the ground. The gun fell from his hand and skittered a few metres away from where he could grab it. The shtriga hovered over him, eyes gleaming and mouth opening to drain Sam of his energy. Sam could already feel darkness creeping into his consciousness, his vision going blurry. As he began to close his eyes, he mustered up enough energy to let out a strangled, “ _Gabe_.”

He was barely conscious when he heard a yell rip from Gabriel’s throat, and he threw his eyes open, already realising his vision was clearing. Gabriel had grabbed the shtriga, pulling it from Sam, and pressing his palm against its forehead. His eyes were dark and his lips were drawn into a snarl.

“Don’t you dare try to mess with a Winchester, bucko. They’ve got angels on their side.”

Sam watched as bright gold and blue light exploded from Gabriel’s hand, and when it dissipated, the shtriga was nothing but a pile of dust slipping through Gabriel’s fingers. Sam groaned a little, and Gabriel rushed to his side, pulling him up.

Gabriel let go of the hunter and wiped his hands on his jeans. “And that, kids, is how it’s done. Now, shall we go?”

The creak of the bed behind him told them that he couldn’t go just yet.

“What the hell—Gabriel? Sam?”

Dean was awake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *avoids writing smut like a child avoiding brussel sprouts*

Gabriel realised what this looked like to Dean. Waking up to a hunter that should have been in the Cage and an archangel that should have been dead in his bedroom? It was certainly an unusual sight, even for a Winchester.

The archangel knew what question would blurt from Dean before he even thought of saying anything. Hunter or not, he was still a human with two people in his room who had magically back from the dead.

“Am I dreaming?”

Gabriel looked over at Sam, and at the cold, stunned gaze that Sam gave back, he knew how he had to answer. “No, Dean,” he stated flatly, sighing.

Lisa then rushed back into the room. “There are more people downstairs—Dean?” Her gaze darted between Dean, to Sam, to Gabriel, and to the pile of dust on the floor.

Gabriel jumped when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, only to realise it was only Sam. He was looking at Gabriel flatly. “We can’t let them know we were here.”

The archangel was half near protesting, but he realised it was less of a suggestion that Sam had given him, it had been an order. He turned back to Dean, who had his arms wrapped around Lisa and was kissing her forehead.

“So, you gonna give me an explanation or what?”

Gabriel sighed. “Sorry ‘bout this, Dean,” he said softly, before pressing two fingers against Lisa’s head, watching her eyes roll back inside her head as she went limp in Dean’s arms.

Dean’s eyes widened as he struggled to keep his girlfriend standing upright, before giving up and lying her gently down on the bed. He straightened up and shot the archangel a furious glare. “What the fuck, Gabriel? You come back to life with Sam, then kill the one person who helped me through Sam’s jump? Real nice of you.”

A bolt of guilt shot through Gabriel’s gut, but he could feel Sam’s eyes boring into him, and he knew he had to continue. Feigning annoyance, Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Always overdramatic, Dean. I didn’t kill her, just erased her memory. And now, it’s time for yours.” He pressed his fingers against Dean’s head.

“What? No, Gabriel, please, Sam—“

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed, and Gabriel turned to Sam.

“Happy now?”

Sam shrugged. “It had to be done.”

“So they’ll wake up and not remember a thing?” Gwen asked for the millionth time.

“Yep,” Gabriel replied, and Sam snorted at the strain of annoyance in his voice.

“Just making sure.” Gwen said with a roll of her eyes, climbing into the car that Johnny and Christian had already entered. “You boys coming?”

Sam was about to follow her into the car when to his embarrassment, his stomach decided to voice its need for food. Gabriel snickered and Sam turned to glare at him.

“Oh, shut up.”

His stomach growled again and Gabriel grinned, and damn it if Sam didn’t think his smug look was attractive as all hell.

“Tell that to your stomach, Sammich.”

Sam didn’t know whether to punch or kiss the smirk off the archangel’s face.

Gwen sighed. “I’m taking that as a no.” she said. Her voice drifted to unhearing ears however, because Sam was too busy scrutinising Gabriel’s upturned lips and didn’t notice Gabriel also seemed preoccupied doing the same.

“Boys?”

Sam whipped around. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon. Gonna grab something to eat first.”

Gwen nodded, her eyes twinkling in that _knowing_ kind of way before closing the door and starting the car.

As it rumbled down the street and out of sight, Sam glanced over at Gabriel. “Thanks back there.”

Gabriel shrugged. “No big deal. Don’t know why it went for you though while it already had Dean.”

“I’ve had a history with shtrigas targeting me,” Sam explained. “That might be why.” He paused for a moment, before frowning. “But why did it go for Dean and not Ben in the first place?”

“Because,” Gabriel said plainly. “It seemed every other monster wanted a piece of Dean and hadn’t gotten to him, then disappeared. It probably thought Dean was somethin’ special, went for him instead.”

Sam nodded. Then he grinned. “So you kinda saved my life. Guess I’d better repay you.”

Gabriel smiled, not some cheeky grin or silly smirk, but a pull at the corners of his lips and a tiny blush rising on his cheeks. But his reply was still the snarky response he usually gave. “All in a day’s work for me.”

“Right.” Sam rolled his eyes and turned to face the shorter man. “But I should repay you. Is there an all-night diner around here?”

Gabriel froze for a second, which was all sorts of amusing and adorable, before relaxing to his usual laidback demeanour. “You asking me out, Winchester?”

It was Sam’s turn for his muscles to shut down in confusion. A date? Why the hell had Gabriel thought that? “I don’t date, Gabriel.”

“’Course you don’t,” Gabriel replied smoothly with a barely noticeable hint of disappointment. “I was only joking anyway, dumbass.” With a wink, he grabbed Sam’s arm and snapped them away.

  


It was lucky there was nearly nobody in the diner, or else there would have been screams of shock and a right fuss made from a particularly tall man and a particularly short one magically appearing just inside the door.

Gabriel slid into a booth, Sam sitting opposite him, and a bored waitress made their way to a table. With a charming smile, Gabriel ordered a serving of pancakes, and when Sam ordered a salad, he gasped in mock surprise and told the waitress to scratch the hunter’s order and replace it with a burger.

When she left, Sam gave the archangel the most menacing glare he could muster, which only caused Gabriel to be even more amused.

“What the hell, Gabriel?”

The archangel sighed. “You thought you could get away with ordering a damn salad in front of the biggest sweet tooth on the planet? No _sir_ , never gonna let that happen.”

“Come on, Gabe. I’ve quite literally been through hell. Let me choose what I want to eat.”

“No,” Gabriel flat out refused, then he narrowed his eyes. “And who in this whole damn universe said you could call me _Gabe_ , anyway?”

Sam’s mouth twitched into a devious smile and his voice lowered at least two octaves. “You don’t like it?”

_Shit_ , Gabriel thought as the hunter’s lowered voice shot straight down his spine, _That escalated quickly._

Willing himself to not to let his thoughts mingle on the slight tent in his pants, he answered leisurely. “I never said I didn’t like it, I was just wondering where the hell it came from.”

Sam tilted his head in such a perfectly slow and deliberate way that Gabriel knew straight away that he was fucked. “Three syllables is quite tiring to say every time, you know.” he drawled.

Gabriel immediately decided to change the pace. “Of course it is, especially seeing as your colossal body seems to compensating for your peanut-sized brain.”

For a moment, there was nothing, just a silent stare, until Sam laughed and sat back in his seat. “Jesus, Gab _riel_ , never realised a nickname would get you so worked up.”

_Totally missed the point._

“Then what was the point?”

Gabriel froze, realising he’d said that last thought out loud. Sam was no longer laughing, but he wasn’t staring Gabriel down like a juicy piece of meat either, his facial expression was simply the epitome of curiosity.

“The point was, the nickname doesn’t bother me. I was simply curious as to why you used it.”

“Then why’d you get all frustrated and defensive?”

“Because it wasn’t the nickname that got to me, it was the voice.”

Sam frowned, then folded his arms. “What voice?”

“ _Yours_ , dumbo!” Gabriel replied in exasperation. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

The look on Sam’s face told Gabriel that yes, he did have the spell it out for the tall hunter. Crap. He didn’t want to get this deep – or this awkward – this soon. He rolled his eyes.

“Never mind.”

“Oh, come on!” Sam protested. “What about my voice? You can’t leave me hanging.”

Instead of explaining it, Gabriel thought of a better idea. He tried to make his best Sam face, and in the deepest, most Sam-like voice he could muster, replied with, “When you got really deep like this.”

“Why’d you get frustrated by that?” Sam asked with a chuckle, and then when realisation dawned on Sam’s face, Gabriel took it all back. _Okay, I was wrong, NOW I’m fucked._

It was at that exact moment that the waitress came back with an enormous stack of pancakes and a cheeseburger. Sam immediately dug out his wallet. “Sorry, we don’t want these anymore.” he said with his most apologetic smile and biggest puppy dog eyes when he set the money for the meals down on the table.

It was Gabriel’s turn to be confused. “We don’t?”

Though talking to the waitress, Sam’s eyes flicked to Gabriel and his gaze hardened immediately. “No. We don’t.”

_Crap. Crappity crap crap with a capital C._

The waitress, oblivious to the exchange, sighed and took the plates along with the money, and when she left, Sam stood up and grabbed Gabriel’s upper arm, dragging him not out the door, but into the diner’s bathroom.

_Crap crap Christ on a bike eating a stack of pancakes—_

“Soundproof the room.”

_Fuck._ “What?”

Sam simply raised his eyebrows in reply and Gabriel snapped his fingers, which also locked the door for good measure.

“So, what’s this secret meeting about, Sammich?”

And that was when Sam slammed him against the wall.


	10. Chapter 10

They was a mess of biting too hard and moving too fast, impatient pushing and pulling and kissing and sucking and nails dragging down skin and hands buried in hair. It was too much and not enough, way too fast but agonisingly slow, and when the two finally slid down the wall to the floor, shoulders heaving and legs trembling, Gabriel felt both so utterly broken and yet so perfectly whole.

“I’ve gotta admit,” Sam said between heaving breaths, “I don’t usually do that.”

Gabriel found enough energy to reply. “Do what? Fuck a guy, fuck an archangel, or fuck in a diner bathroom?”

“Honestly?” Sam said with a hoarse chuckle. “All three.”

Gabriel grinned, ignoring the way Sam’s reply had tugged at his grace. “Glad to be an exception.”

Sam ignored the comment and shoved Gabriel lightly. “Mind cleaning us up?”

As if moving through water, Gabriel slowly lifted his arm and snapped.

“You took a while,” Gwen remarked as Sam came into the run down house where the Campbells were staying.

“I was patrolling the place, making sure no more monsters decided to take a bite of the town.” Sam replied in a bored tone.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Johnny asked accusingly.

Sam shrugged. “Gabe’s off somewhere, doing whatever it is archangels do.”

Mark raised his eyebrows but stayed silent.

“So no monsters?” Samuel asked, bringing the conversation back to hunting.

“No monsters.” Sam confirmed.

“Well, seems we’re done here, then!” Johnny said with a yawn. “I say we sleep tonight, leave tomorrow morning.” Beside him, Christian agreed.

“Right,” Samuel nodded. “I’ll see you all in the morning.” As he passed Sam on the way to his room, he murmured, “Try to get some sleep.”

Sam held back a snort. Sleeping was unlikely.

Slowly, the group dissipated. Gwen left first, followed by Johnny and Christian, so only Sam and Mark remained. As Mark got up, he mumbled something that Sam couldn’t hear.

“Sorry, what?”

Mark turned to him, eyes, however, downcast. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“You called him Gabe.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah. So?”

Mark shrugged. “Didn’t know angels – _archangels_ – liked nicknames.” he paused, and when Sam didn’t reply, he turned away and kept walking. “Oh, never mind.”

Frowning at Mark’s strange comment, Sam sat at the table and set out his knives and guns, getting to work on cleaning, sharpening and preparing them. Sam definitely enjoyed being so strong and full of energy after coming back from the Cage, especially when on a hunt, but not being able to sleep had both its advantages and disadvantages. Always being alert and on guard for attacks was good, plus no threat of fatigue impairing his judgement, but sitting in silence for empty hours trying to find things to do was certainly inconvenient. He’d clean the weapons over and over again, run laps around the house, stock up on food, and generally try to not cause any noise due to hunters being remarkably light sleepers.

He sighed and tossed his newly sharpened knife from hand to hand, catching it delicately and making sure not to cut himself during his juggling act. Loneliness wasn’t the problem here. It was boredom.

Gabriel was never boring.

Despite his unassuming size and slight plumpness, he was a ball of energy and before the Cage, Sam had honestly thought he’d never catch up to the quick-witted archangel. But Gabriel died, Sam fell, and upon their resurrections, Sam had caught him (and fucked him into near oblivion – but that wasn’t important).

Sam hoped to God or whatever other higher power that was listening that Gabriel wouldn’t get attached. He doubted the archangel would – the Trickster didn’t seem to be interested in commitment. Sam was sure the sex was simply a split second decision where for some reason, they both snapped. But the way the golden-eyed angel looked at him afterwards, the way he had mumbled unknown yet obviously loving words into Sam’s neck when on the verge of coming, Sam was sure there was something deeper running between him and Gabriel. And that scared him. Because as much as he tried, Sam couldn’t muster up any care, let alone love, for the angel.

He prayed that Gabriel wouldn’t mention it.

  


Gabriel wasn’t going to mention it.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew Sam had changed. Something had happened in the Cage had the hunter hadn’t come back the same loyal, sweet kid as when he had gone in. Lucifer had gotten to him for sure, pushed him too far too many times, ripped him to shreds only to put him back together and start again. Sam had lost a part of himself, and now Gabriel knew by his attitude to everything, by his snap decision to sleep with him, that he simply did not care about anyone anymore. Old Sam would never do that to anyone, let alone _him_.

He’d wanted to tell Sam, as he was reaching the edge, he’d wanted to tell Sam everything. He’d wanted to confess that Sam was the reason Gabriel kept going, the reason why he was still alive and causing trouble. But the way Sam had stared, gaze dark and devoid of all emotions, Gabriel knew he couldn’t, so he’d buried his head into Sam’s neck and whispered these confessions onto his skin, hoping that the words would seep through his skin and muscles to his to soul, to reach the part of Sam that still cared; still loved fiercely and never gave up.

This new Sam was not the one that Gabriel had fallen in love with at the confrontation at Mystery Spot.

And only when Sam came back to himself would Gabriel tell him how much he lo— _appreciated_ the hunter – his saviour.

One thing was for sure in Gabriel’s mind.

_Sticking around, Gabriel? That was one of your worse decisions._

But Gabriel knew there was no way he could stay away.


	11. Chapter 11

The morning could not have come fast enough in Sam’s opinion. At the first streak of daylight curling over the horizon, he was out of the house and running for a solid twenty minutes before finding a park and deciding to switch up his regime.

Exercising was a very good way to pass the time. Instead of seconds, time became an amount of push ups, minutes reduced to how long he could hold himself up in a plank. Sit-ups, lunges, squats; he concentrating on counting each move, making sure he got to a perfect one hundred before moving on to the next activity. It made Sam feel good and full of energy and strength; it made him feel unbeatable, which honestly, he almost was.

His inability to sleep was a tiny con in a crowd of pros, and even then, was it really a con at all? Sleep had only held him back before the Cage. Now he was always awake and alert for new attacks.

Or particularly clingy archangels.

Sam heard a low whistle sound behind him, and he got up from his push ups to shoot an annoyed glare at Gabriel. “As flattering as you are, you made me loose count. Now I have to start again.”

Gabriel smirked. “That’s what I was hoping. More time looking at my sexy giant.”

Wincing, Sam tried to ignore the fact that Gabriel had called Sam _his_.

He couldn’t lead Gabriel on, so he sighed. “Actually, I think I’ll call it a day. We have to pack and move on to the next town today, anyway.”

Gabriel groaned. “Ugh, _boring_. Not gonna stick around for that.”

Sam hoped Gabriel didn’t hear him murmur, “Good,” under his breath.

Gabriel knew he was getting too attached too quickly.

He knew Sam didn’t want any kind of relationship, gay, straight or otherwise. And yet he had unconsciously decided to be around Sam as much as possible. He thought maybe he could help Sam get back to his normal, friendly self, but at each visit Gabriel knew he was only pissing the hunter off more.

So he should have expected to pop into a bar where Sam was meant to be only to see him tug a woman into the bathroom and shut the door.

Every town brought a new hunt and a new pretty girl to fuck in a bathroom, and Gabriel started visibly appearing less. Invisible by Sam’s side, he had tweaked each hunt just a little bit more to their advantage to make the hunt easier for Sam and the Campbells (he found it strange that they would hardly kill the monsters but instead captured them, but he didn’t think it was his business to pry. Samuel was a pretty dangerous-looking man.) He watched as Sam seemed to drink his own weight in alcohol every night and seem hardly drunk. But what he had also noticed was how perfectly content Sam was when Gabriel wasn’t visibly around. The Campbells were very work-oriented, and Sam fit right in, the six working like well-oiled machine during hunts. They were the perfect, ruthless team. They’d settled into a perfect schedule.

Except the fact that Sam didn’t seem to sleep.

Gabriel sat across from Sam every night, long after the Campbells went to bed, and watched Sam pace the room, clean his weapons and fold his clothes again and again. The hunter would sometimes lean back against the wall and close his eyes, and Gabriel’s heart would swell with happiness that Sam would finally get some sleep, only to have the hope dashed when Sam opened his eyes seconds later and got back to working on his belonging methodically.

It went on for two weeks – much longer than any human had ever gone without sleep before – before Gabriel finally decided to confront him about it.

He popped in that night, realising that nowadays he was invisible more often than he was not, and continued to annoy the collective to no end. Christian had threatened several other nights, and Johnny went as far to stab him only to watch in horror as Gabriel healed the hole in his heart without difficulty. Tonight seemed different, slower. Gwen and Mark had gotten severely injured on the hunt despite Gabriel’s tiny helping hand, and none of the family unit had come away from the vampire’s nest without a few cuts and bruises. All of the Campbells were quiet and tired, and no matter how many times Gabriel offered to help them, they refused.

One by one, each person in the family left until only Sam and Gabriel left.

“You can leave, Gabriel.” Sam said tiredly. “I’m gonna be here for a while, and I’m not going to be very interesting.”

“I can wait,” Gabriel replied brightly, swinging his legs from where he sat on the workbench at the side of the room.

“Really, dude, you can go. I’m gonna be here a _long_ while.”

“The whole night,” Gabriel added pointedly, and Sam twisted around.

“What?”

“Yes, Sam, I know about you being the world’s healthiest insomniac.” Gabriel rolled his eyed and hopped off the bench. “Have you ever thought how that’s kind of weird?”

“Not really,” Sam replied in a tone that told Gabriel to stop pushing it.

Gabriel decided to keep on pushing it.

“You haven’t slept in weeks, and you think that’s okay? It’s unhealthy, it’s unnatural! Something must have really fucked you up in the Cage.”

Gabriel didn’t have enough time to comprehend it as Sam grabbed him by the collar and threw him again the wall.

“Gabe, shut up.”

_Challenge accepted._

“You called me Gabe again.”

“So?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Sam let go of Gabriel’s shirt and combed his fingers through his hair sighing. “You’re such a little shit, Gabe. You know that?”

Gabriel shrugged modestly. “Oh, I try.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I give up.” and suddenly he was surging forward and smashing his lips against Gabriel’s and the archangel couldn’t do anything except squeak in surprise and melt like butter against Sam’s chest.

Sam took no time in hoisting Gabriel’s legs around his hips and slamming him against the wall again, tongue wet and hot and wonderful in Gabriel’s mouth, and when he ground his hips against Gabriel’s own with a breathy moan, the archangel lost his ability to think.

Who cared if Sam didn’t give a shit about him? He still felt _something_ for the archangel.

Gabriel ignored the fact that what Sam was feeling was probably all physical.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in this installment, Kelly attempts to angst.

Gabriel quickly slipped into the Campbell family routine. He hardly bothered with invisibility as he busied himself with helping the hunters, and cared less about his obvious affection towards Sam, though the affection was never reciprocated. He would smack the Winchester’s ass and grin when Gwen laughed, and often teased Johnny and Christian about their obvious distaste toward the archangel, saying, “Oh, they’re just jealous I’ve landed myself this hot piece of ass.” Samuel would watch them through suspicious eyes, and Mark would often make himself sparse when around everyone else. 

At night, with neither Sam nor Gabriel able to sleep, they’d talk. More often than not, Gabriel would say something stupid, and Sam would reply with, “Shut up,” only for Gabriel to smirk and whisper, “Make me,” in the most sultry voice he could muster, and Sam would roll his eyes before grabbing the archangel and roughly pushing him onto the table.

Gabriel pretended not to notice that Sam never looked him in the eye when this happened, so he pretended not to care either. No more burying heads in shoulders and murmuring confessions of love anymore. Just sex. He’d learned that from the first time.

This new routine of hunting and fucking, this new life of almost-bliss that Gabriel felt lasted for four weeks and six days. Then Samuel and Bobby decided to lift the no-Dean rule, and Sam jumped at the chance to recruit the other Winchester to their little group.

Gabriel was surprised, however, that Dean joining meant Gabriel leaving.

_Gabe,_ his voice echoed in the archangel’s mind. _Dean’s meeting the rest of us today, and I was wondering if you could kind of stay out of it. If he saw a resurrected archangel along with a back-from-the-dead grandpa, he’d freak. So, please._

When Dean and Sam finally separated after that meeting, Gabriel appeared before the younger Winchester. “So now Dean’s in, I’m out?” 

“No, Gabriel, that’s not what I meant. I just meant to lie low.” 

“For how long?” 

Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

“Oh, sure we will. I’ll cross a bridge that’s crumbling and half-breaking and then the ropes will snap while I’m halfway across and I fall to my death.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Gabe?” 

Gabriel shrugged, trying to seem careless when he could feel his anger boiling over. “You’re the one that brought up the metaphor.” And at that, he flew away. 

  


It took two months of helping children in Africa for Gabriel’s will to snap, especially seeing as Sam’s voice in his head, which was usually annoyed or pissed or drunk off his ass, was now wobbling a little.

_Gabe, please come. Gotta tell you something._

He couldn’t ignore Sam when he seemed he might be in trouble. So, reluctantly, he said farewell to the Maasai village and snapped his fingers.

Sam was pacing back and forth when Gabriel arrived.

“Oh, thank God, we haven’t got much time until Cas and Dean get back—“

“Cas?” Gabriel replied is disbelief. “Castiel is hanging with you guys again?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not important, Gabe!”

The archangel folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “Then tell me what is or I’ll start ripping your soul in two,” he prompted with the empty threat.

“That’s the thing, Gabe,” the hunter chuckled, before sighing and walking to the other side of the room, “You can’t do that.”

Gabriel folded his arms tightly across his chest. “What on earth do you mean?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You can’t rip my soul in two, because it’s not here.” he jabbed a finger into his own chest.

Gabriel had certainly not expected that.

“What?”

“I’m soulless.” Sam explained. “My soul…it’s still in Hell with your brothers and Adam. Probably still being tortured by Lucifer. That’s why I’ve been like this. Unable to sleep, on top of my game…” He trailed off.

Gabriel frowned. “So you’re not you.”

“No!” Sam argued. “That’s what I was trying to tell Dean. I’m still me. Just…a better version! A stronger one, one that doesn’t need sleep or anything like that…”

“So you’re saying this whole time you’ve just been a shell?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” Gabriel exclaimed. “And I’m hearing you perfectly. Your soul – your _essence_ – is trapped with my buttwad brother, and you’ve been roaming the country just as a body, with no real emotions.” He snorted. “Guess that solves the whole ‘but why won’t he love me?’ debate going on in my head.”

Sam punched him.

Gabriel reeled, stumbling backwards until he hit the wall. Sam stalked forward, and Gabriel hoped to his father that the hunter wouldn’t kiss him.

He did what could be considered basically the opposite.

“You’re a selfish little brat, Gabriel. You never think about the bigger picture. I’m saving countless lives, so many more since before the Cage, and all you can think of is the fact that you want a little romance in your pathetic life.”

Gabriel flinched.

The tension in Sam’s body slowly relaxed. “Just…just go, Gabriel.” Quieter, he muttered, “Should never have gotten involved with you in the first place.”

Gabriel brushed himself off and stalked forward until he was nose-to-nose (well, really, nose-to-chest) with Sam.

“I know I’m selfish, Sam. I know I’m pathetic. But at least I care about people. You don’t give a fuck about anyone.”

With Sam staring down at him with a blank, almost bored expression, Gabriel snapped himself away again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I use italics way too much.

Gabriel returned to the one thing that kept him safe for so many centuries.

His unrivalled talent at disguise.

Once again, he became the Trickster. Outsmarting hunters, killing countless dickheads in a variety of creative ways, hopping from country to country and leaving a trail of havoc (and candy wrappers) in his wake. He felt good, not being tied down to anyone anymore, whether it was Balthazar or a fucking _soulless_ Sam Winchester or a family of hunters that got killed off one at a time. He felt free.

What Gabriel never expected was to hear Sam’s voice again, let alone hear it piercing through his thoughts during a lazy day walking along on the beaches of Bali with one of his female manifestations whom he had named Samantha by his side.

_Gabriel?_

The archangel froze and Samantha looked at him, confused.

_Gabe, please, it’s me. I…you don’t get it, but Gabriel – shit, I’m in trouble, I need your help just please Gabriel, please—_

“Problem?” Samantha broke through Sam’s pleading prayer in his head. He turned to her wide eyed, worried expression and smiled reassuringly.

“Nope,” the archangel replied simply. “Just time for you to go.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and snapped her away before pinpointing Sam’s whereabouts and flying to meet him.

  


It was certainly surprising to find Sam in a locked iron room filled with demon traps and sigils, and even more surprising to see him lying on the tiny bed in the middle of the room, wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. Gabriel had no idea what to say, so he went for his favourite uncaring smartass approach.

“Haven’t talked for months and now you wanna try bondage? Sam, kiddo, I’m flattered, but being punched in the face and called a ‘selfish little shit’ isn’t really good fuckbuddy behaviour.”

The groan that came out of Sam’s mouth was one of exasperation, but as Gabriel studied the hunter’s face, noticed something he had skimmed over before.

Sam’s eyes.

Gabriel had gotten used to Sam’s emotionless gaze over the months, the lack of love and care he had for Dean, for Gabriel, for anyone. But staring into Sam’s eyes with him strapped on the bed, vulnerable and unable to move, Gabriel noticed the pure, unrestrained _fear_ in the hunter’s eyes.

“Sam?” he dropped to his knees at Sam’s side. “What—what’s going on? What is this place, anyway?”

“Bobby’s panic room,” Sam explained with a tremor in his voice. “They’re…they’re getting my soul back, Gabriel. Dean and Bobby are getting my soul.”

Gabriel didn’t know whether to be worried or glad.

“Gabe, you’re my only hope. You’re the only guy left that can help me. I…I don’t want my soul back. It makes me vulnerable and scared and stupid and I’m stronger without it and they just can’t see that I’m better like this and Gabriel I’ll do _anything_ for you. I’ll…I’ll care for you, I’ll look out for you, I’ll…” Sam faltered, before continuing with a hopeful smile. “I’ll _love_ you, Gabe. Just like you want. Just…please, help me. I can’t be that guy again.”

The archangel faltered. He wanted Sam with him more than anything, he’d have the world crumble and all his siblings die just to know that Sam was okay and strong and happy, and he knew for sure that as soon Sam got his soul back, he’d lose all memory of his time as a soulless killer – he’d forget all his hunts, all his time with Samuel and Gwen and the other hunters, and all his time with Gabriel. But he’d go back to the beautiful, emotional, courageous kid that Gabriel had fallen in love with in the first place. 

“No.”

“No?” Sam echoed in disbelief. “Gabriel, _Gabe_ , please!”

Gabriel could feel his eyes getting watery. _Never cried before,_ a small voice in his head commented accusingly, but he ignored it and willed the tears away. “Sam, I’m not going to stop them. If anything, I _want_ you to get your soul back.”

He stood up and turned around, pacing to the edge of the panic room. He could hear Sam struggling in his restraints.

“Gabriel--” he began to plead again.

Gabriel snapped.

“ _No_ , Sam!”

The fear in Sam’s eyes evaporated, becoming steely and cold as Gabriel went on.

“I’m not letting you run around killing people anymore, Sam! I’m not gonna let you ruin everyone’s lives! Do you understand the grief you’ve given Bobby, given Dean, given _me_? Running around in Sam’s body when really, you’re not Sam at all! You’re ruthless, and cruel, and you don’t fucking _care_ about anyone except yourself. You’re stupid, you know that? You think your soul is so _weak_ , when it’s the strongest, brightest thing the whole damn _universe_ , and it loves so fiercely and it’s _loyal_ and _kind_ and it – _he_ – is so more important than you, you cowardly, cold, emotionless asshole! You say you’re going to love me, but you don’t have enough compassion in your heart to even give me a _second thought_ unless you need me to help you or want a quick fuck, so don’t you _dare_ say you’ll care about me, because you don’t have the heart – the _soul_ – to make you capable of loving me.”

Gabriel stopped, chest heaving. He could feel his grace churning agitatedly inside him, calming to a peaceful eddy and flow, and he could feel the tears springing to his eyes once more. His voice cracked when he continued, “You’re not stronger than Sam. You’re not better than Sam. You are _nothing_ compared to Sam.”

Sam stared, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Well, now we’ve poured our hearts out, I was wondering if I could get on with my job.”

Gabriel glanced up to see the owner of the voice, only to see haunting figure of the Horseman Death doing what could only be described as prowling to the other side of Sam’s bed, holding a dark bag by his side. Gabriel knew immediately what was inside. He swallowed the lump in his throat and grinned at the Horseman. He hadn’t wanted Sam to see him like this, let alone the ageless being before him.

“Death! I haven’t seen you in millennia.” He skipped around the bed to meet the reaper. “Haven’t aged a bit, I see. Have I told you that you have an impressive set of cheekbones?”

Death remained still when Gabriel slapped him on the back. “Only when you were trying to get out of trouble, Gabriel.”

Gabriel dropped the hand, then spun around to face the door as two distinct voices started yelling outside.

“I think it is time for you to ‘scoot’, Gabriel,” Death said pointedly, and Sam’s eyes widened.

“Gabe, no!” he exclaimed. “Please, please, stay--” 

Squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore Sam’s frantic pleading, Gabriel raised his arm and did what he did best.

He snapped his fingers.

He ran away.

Standing in the middle of empty, cold, endless white, Gabriel tried to ignore Sam’s pleading thoughts ringing through his head. When he closed his eyes, he could see the panic room behind his eyelids. He could see Bobby and Dean standing at the door, watching in horror as Death slowly pressed Sam’s soul back into his writhing body.

Even in Antarctica, he could still hear Sam’s screams.


	14. Chapter 14

It was now that Gabriel was particularly desperate to be human.

The mortality was certainly unfortunate, and the lack of powers would definitely bore Gabriel out of his right mind. Then there would be the constant need for nourishment – he wouldn’t just be able to live on candy and alcohol.

But the reason for Gabriel’s wish to be human was for the ability to _sleep_.

Gabriel wanted to sleep because sleep seemed the only solution to stop the thoughts whirling through his mind every second of every day and every night. He just wanted a break, even if it was just a few hours of not having to hear Sam calling him ‘Gabe’ and Sam pleading for him to help him and Sam promising to love him and Sam screaming in pain with his soul forcing its way back into its body and Sam—

Gabriel forced his mind to go blank as he closed his eyed and breathed in deeply. It had been weeks since Sam had gotten reunited with his soul, and Gabriel had heard nothing from the tall Winchester boy. Sam had done as Gabriel had predicted – he’d forgotten everything after the Cage. Gabriel wished he had been that lucky. Maybe he could strike up a deal with Death about tweaking his own memory.

The archangel had settled in a house in Australia, on the outskirts of Sydney; the house was two stories – not as large as Balthazar’s mansion but plenty enough for an archangel. Sometimes the two angels would visit each other and talk or play games or eat copious amount of expensive chocolate – whatever they did, Gabriel was always glad for the company, and therefore the distraction from the thoughts in his head. In his own time, Gabriel had practised his powers of creating alternate worlds, and had pretty much perfected his favourite – one where the lives of him and every other person in this world were simply part of a television show. He especially had fun choosing the names for the actors in those shows.

As soon as Balthazar arrived in Gabriel’s house, eyes wide and shoulders heaving, Gabriel knew this visit was for very different purposes.

“Raphael,” Balthazar explained breathlessly. “After me. To kill me. You have to help.”

Gabriel sprang into action.

“Holy items secured?”

Balthazar nodded. “Gave them to Cassie a while back.”

“Good,” Gabriel nodded. “Pretend you haven’t.”

“What?”

“Pretend you haven’t given the items to Castiel!” Gabriel insisted. He snapped his fingers and a key dropped into Balthazar’s hand. “Pretend that’s the key to the place that holds the items. It’ll buy you time.”

“This won’t stop him from killing me!” Balthazar exclaimed incredulously. 

The other angel was right. It wouldn’t. It would only cause Balthazar more pain – Raphael would probably torture him for the place where the holy items were stored, and then kill him. Gabriel studied Balthazar’s face, before lighting up. “Got it!”

Balthazar’s eyed widened. “What is it?”

Gabriel grinned as he paced around the room in excitement. “Let’s put Raphael on a wild goose chase. Not just the key, but…a whole fake trail!” He smirked. “A whole new _world_.”

The British angel rolled his eyes. “Gabriel, please – stop with the Disney, and tell me what the bloody hell you’re talking about!”

“Okay.” Gabriel replied simply, before grabbing Balthazar’s arm and pulling him close, stretching up and whispering his idea into the befuddled angel’s ear.

He hoped his practice had made perfect.

  


It seemed it had.

Balthazar appeared by his side at a cliff a few hours later, smirking and nodding his approval. 

“Virgil’s gone after them. Raphael’s going to have to hold off any attack for a while.”

Gabriel grinned and snapped a celebratory box of chocolates into his hands for the angels to share, and they wondered aloud how they thought Sam and Dean would go as the moderately successful television actors, Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. 

“You think they’ll find their way back?”

“Probably.” Gabriel swallowed his chocolate before answering with a shrug. “But if they get stuck as the Winchesters usually do, then I can go sweep ‘em outta there.”

They stood at the edge of the cliff for a minute, watching the ocean crash against the rocks far below, when suddenly Balthazar perked up. Gabriel turned to him questioningly.

“It’s Sam and Dean,” the other angel explained. “They’re back…and calling.”

Gabriel didn’t get time to reply before his brother vanished from his side.

As he continued gazing out at the churning waters below, Gabriel didn’t realise that for the first time in months, Sam’s name hadn’t dragged the sounds of screaming and pleading back to haunt Gabriel’s thoughts.

If he had noticed, he probably would have given himself a medal.

Made of chocolate.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last two chapters were meant to be one huge one, but I decided to split them up into smaller installments because my OCD ass hated having a chapter nearing 3000 words when the rest barely reached 1500, and that same OCD ass also hates the number fifteen, so sixteen chapters it is!

“You know,” Dean said, putting his book down and stretching leisurely. “We should have a break.”

Sam snorted. “Keep dreamin’, Dean.”

The next second, his book was snatched from him, and Sam glanced up in annoyance as Dean snapped it closed and dropped it on the floor.

“Oh, come on!”

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m serious. We need a break.”

The taller hunter sighed, sitting back and looking at Dean evenly. “You know we can’t do that. We’ve got the Mother of All monsters hunting our asses. We gotta figure out how to stop her.”

Dean held up a hand in a ‘just hear me out’ gesture, then replied. “It would only be for a few days, maybe a week. Rest up, read something other than lore, watch some crappy TV, and just lie low. I mean,” he snickered a little. “We definitely deserve it. We nearly got murdered by Raphael’s right hand man because of a key that didn’t even go anywhere!”

Sam sighed as Dean stood up and stretched his arms into the air, turning towards the kitchen.

“Besides, old Bobby could use the company,” Dean threw the comment over his shoulder as he strode into the kitchen, swiping a beer from the fridge and opening it up with ease.

“Who’re you calling old?” Bobby said gruffly, entering the room with his arms weighed down by shopping bags. “I’m the one pulling all my weight and doing all the grocery runs while you sit around emptying the bottles.” he planted the bags down on the bench, nudging Dean out of the way and looking pointedly to the dirty dishes and beer bottles piled near the sink. “Hell, you boys eat like you’ll never see food again.”

“Thanks for the shopping, Bobby,” Sam replied promptly, standing up and making his way around the desk he was sitting at, working feeling back into his stiff legs. 

Dean snatched one of the shopping bags and begun to unload it, while striking up conversation with the older hunter. “Hey, Bobby, you think we should stick around here for a while, make sure we don’t get killed by the angelic sons of bitches for a few days?”

“Sure.” Bobby replied carelessly. “Whatever you think is best.”

Dean shot a triumphant look over to his younger brother. Sam groaned.

“Fine, whatever, we can stay here a while,” he gave in, taking his own beer from the fridge. “Not gonna stop readin’ up on Eve, though.”

“Suit yourself,” Dean replied with a shrug, diving into another shopping bag, before turning back around with a grin, “Jared.”

“Oh, God.” Sam groaned, smiling anyways and he walked over to the other two men and unloading a shopping bag himself. “That place was messed up. Let’s hope Balthazar doesn’t put us back there.”

Dean leaned back on the counter, taking a pull from his beer, looking thoughtful. “Wonder why he sent us there, of all places. We’ve got those scribbles on our ribs; he could’ve sent us anywhere without having the other able to track us, and yet he sent us to that-” he gestured wildly with his hands, beer sloshing around in the bottle- “Place?”

“I think Balthazar’s thought process is less why, more why not,” Sam pointed out, closing the fridge door and walking back to his desk.

His brother shrugged, following him in. “True, but still. It’s not really a rational thought process. Oh, I think I’m gonna die, perfect time to pull a prank on the Winchesters!”

“It’s not like angels aren’t known to do that,” Bobby noted, shoving the plastic shopping bags into a drawer under the counter. “I mean, have you guys forgotten Gabriel?”

Sam’s head snapped up. “What?”

Bobby adjusted his cap a little before joining the boys at the desk. “This Supernatural set sounds like something the Trickster would have come up with, don’t you think?”

Yeah, Sam realised. It was. His mind wandered back to the Trickster, all smirks and gorgeous golden eyes and innuendos. He pictured Seattle Mercy Hospital, the Sunny Dayz Motel, the Nutcracker game show. Honestly, he couldn’t put it past Gabriel to come up with another television-inspired world.

“Yeah, but Gabriel’s dead.” Dean argued, jolting Sam out of his thoughts.

“And an angel’s never come back from the dead before?” Bobby shot back. “I mean, look at Cas. Got himself obliterated one time and imploded another, and yet he’s still kicking.”

“And he did fake his death with us before,” Sam added. Dean shot him a curious look, eyes narrowed. 

“Yeah, but that wasn’t against Lucifer,” Dean shot back, voice harsh. “I don’t know where your weird infatuation with the dude came from, Sam, but don’t get your hopes up. He’s dead. Lucifer wouldn’t spare him.”

Sam could feel his cheeks reddening, and he looked down at his lap, studying his hands. Infatuation? Sam wasn’t infatuated. That made him sound like a fucking three year old. He just wished that Gabriel was alive, as much as he still wished Jo and Ellen were alive, as much as he wanted Jess to still be alive, though he didn't know why he felt so interested in the angel. But not infatuated. Infatuation was the completely wrong word for what he felt for the angel.

Dean’s voice softened. “Look, Sam, I’m sorry. But not everyone’s as lucky as us. Gabriel isn’t coming back, dude.”

Sam looked up through his lashes, voice hardening. “You don’t know that.” He stood up suddenly, throwing the chair back. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dude, it’s seven in the evening.” Dean interjected, blocking Sam’s path. “The last time you went to bed that early, you were still in diapers.”

Sam stared at his brother levelly. “Don’t we deserve a break?” he asked darkly. “Or is that only reserved for you?”

Dean’s eyes widened a little, but didn’t reply. Sam sighed and continued up the stairs to his room.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam clearly remembered that when he had fallen asleep, his bed was completely clear and spotless.

And now here he was, surrounded by rustling candy wrappers. 

“The hell?” Sam said groggily, pushing himself into a sitting position. Candy wrappers blanketed him and were strewn across his bed, so many of them that they were spilling onto the floor. Sam groaned and brushed himself off, finding out that some of the wrappers had even found their way to get tangled in his hair. A snicker from across the room caught his attention, and he looked up, finding himself in the company of a very smug, very familiar face, standing at the end of his bed. He felt his heart leap a little in excitement, for this person was meant to be dead, but he didn’t want to _get his hopes up_ , as Dean had told him.

“Crap.” he groaned, feigning annoyance as he let his head collapse back onto the pillow. “Gabriel.”

“That’s not a very warm welcome for the guy who helped save your ass and stop the Apocalypse.” the archangel tutted, sauntering over to the bed. “Sorry for the decorations,” he continued, gesturing to the candy wrappers. “You were taking so long to wake up, and I got bored. And hungry.”

“Sure.” Sam replied sarcastically. “So, is this real, or a dream?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t understand why that matters.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Right. Because either way, you somehow faked your death – again.”

The archangel grinned. “Ding! Correct answer!”

“So you gonna tell me how you did it?”

“Did what?” Gabriel replied, feigning innocence. Sam only just resisted from rolling his eyes for a second time.

“How you faked your death, dumbass.”

Gabriel’s voice was barely audible when he replied, “Sorry, Sammich. A magician can’t reveal his tricks.”

Sam could tell the reply was meant to be in a snarky tone, but the sudden softness of the archangel’s voice made Sam look up curiously, meeting Gabriel’s gaze. He was looking at Sam, eyes forlorn, and that was when Sam noticed.

Gabriel looked so _different._

Sam knew angel’s vessels didn’t age when possessed, but somehow, Gabriel looked older than when the hunter had last seen him. Absorbing the sight of the angel, he noticed a few different things – Gabriel’s hair was a tad longer, and with a jolt of concern, he realised the archangel’s eyes were no longer bright and sparkling, but dull and even possibly verging on grey. Everything about him was less vibrant, less… _golden_ , for that was the only word that could truly describe Gabriel. And now the gold was fading. The archangel didn’t even look confident anymore, he looked like he has curled inside himself, shielding himself from the world.

The hunter threw back the covers and brushed a pile of candy wrappers off his bedspread, clearing a space so he could sit next to the angel. “Gabriel, are you alright?”

The archangel looked startled at the question. “What?”

Sam placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I asked if you were alright,” he repeated gently, rubbing his thumb across the angel’s shoulder comfortingly.

Gabriel shrugged and shook his head in reply, before pushing Sam’s hand off and standing up, walking back to the end of the bed. “Doesn’t matter.”

Sam stood up and took a few steps to close the gap Gabriel had made between the two of them. “Of course it does.”

The archangel snorted. “Oh, shut up. You’re just saying it for common courtesy. Not like you care. You never did. Even when--” Sam nearly flinched when he heard Gabriel’s voice crack, and he broke off suddenly, leaving the sentence open.

“When?” Sam prompted softly, and Gabriel chuckled humourlessly.

“As I said, it doesn’t matter.” He looked up at Sam again, smirk back in place. “As for faking my death, it really wasn’t me who should be thanked for it. It was my blade.”

Knowing Gabriel didn’t want him to push any further about his own wellbeing, Sam decided to follow the subject change. 

“Your blade?”

“Mmhmm.” Gabriel hummed, nodding. “It was an experiment I came up with, when I was a kid. Michael and Raphael? They thought I was nuts. But Lucifer was more supportive, and I was determined.”

Sam lowered himself onto sitting on the bed again. “What did you do?”

Gabriel huffed a quiet laugh. “I wanted – I wanted to make sure the chances of me and my brothers dying were as small as possible. So I tweaked the designs of our blades; took some grace from each of my brothers and put it in their respective blades, so if any of us were stabbed with our own blade, we wouldn’t die.” The archangel snorted. “Of course, none of us were going to see if it would work, just in case it didn’t. No-one wanted to risk death. So it kind of just stayed a possibility – it might work, it might not work.”

“Schrodinger’s archangel blade,” Sam replied lightly, and Gabriel grinned up at him.

“Yeah, something like that. So, it stayed like that, til…you know,” Gabriel looked up sheepishly. “Lucifer. He came ‘round, and he was gonna kill Kali, kill Dean, do whatever it took to get you to say yes--” he cut the sentence short again, taking in a breath.

“It’s okay,” Sam said softly, trying to comfort the archangel once more.

Gabriel looked up thankfully. “You—you looked as if you’d given up. And then you looked at me, you found out who I was, and then you looked like you had hope. Like I was your only hope. And you asked me, over and over, if I could try and kill Lucifer. And I couldn’t. I mean,” he gestured to Sam. “You couldn’t kill Dean. Dean couldn’t kill you. It doesn’t matter how evil Luci is, he’s still my brother. I loved—still love him, even if he didn’t care for me any longer. Couldn’t kill him. But Satan was coming to the party whether we liked it or not, and you boys couldn’t fight him on your own.”

Realisation dawned on Sam. “You went to Lucifer – fought him – knowing there was a chance you were gonna die.”

The archangel nodded with a dry smile. “You always were pretty quick on the draw, for a human. Yeah, you’re right. I was ready to die, then. Just to give you boys another chance.” He threw his head back, released a deep laugh, and Sam was startled by the strength of it. “But, alas, my experiment was finally tested, and it worked. I lived.”

It was silent for a few moments, before Sam made a snap decision, surging forward and wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s neck, drawing him close. “I’m glad.”

He could feel the archangel frozen under his embrace, breath caught in his throat, before melting and winding his own arms around Sam’s waist. Unlike Lucifer, he radiated unnatural warmth, which slowly spread from the angel’s body to the hunter’s. “You know, kid, I’m glad too.”

As light slowly leaked into his vision, Sam sighed and let the last streaks of unconsciousness leave as he blinked open his eyes. By the time on his watch, it was eleven in the morning, which meant the hunter had slept sixteen hours straight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

Despite the chilly air around him and the thin sheets, he was comfortably warm and cosy. As he sat up groggily, it was a relief for Sam to see that his bedroom had not been made a mess by an archangel’s cravings for candy. For his room was clean; no candy wrappers in sight. Unless Gabriel had cleaned up his litter while Sam was asleep, which was unlikely, it had all been a simple dream.

Even when he slipped out of bed and made his way across the landing to the bathroom, the cold was still unable to consume him. Sam half wondered if he was running a fever, but he didn’t feel sick. On the contrary, he was feeling quite the opposite – awake and restored and full of energy.

When he ambled down the stairs and into the kitchen to get himself some toast, Dean was already there, leaning back on his chair with his feet resting on the table. “He lives!” he exclaimed in mock surprise, and Sam grinned a little, shaking his head.

“Oh, shut up.”

  


Coming back upstairs to get changed, Sam saw the note on the desk, and next to it, a crumpled candy wrapper.

_Hey Sammich,_

_Just leaving this here to make sure you knew that wasn’t a dream, I’m alive and well, though it’s not really an important thing for you._

_Trust me, I am not expecting to see you again, I’ve decided to go back to Australia – cool place, so sunny, amazing desserts, great animals! (I mean, have you even seen a platypus? Those guys are awesome!_

_Anyway, I’m always open to talk, though I don’t expect you to talk to me at all. I’ve been hellish to you boys, and I don’t mind if I never see you again – I would understand perfectly._

_Just, don’t die too soon, okay?_

_Gabriel._

Gabriel popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, crumpling up the wrapper and flinging it to the side. Balthazar had recently told him where he could get the exquisite chocolates, and he had already starting buying them in bulk, storing in the basement of his house.

Thought it hadn’t really gone that way he wanted it to, Gabriel was glad he’d gotten his tiny bit of closure. He didn’t want his last interaction with Sam to be walking away from him as he screamed and pleaded for the archangel to stay.

Suddenly, a voice pierced his thoughts. At first, he expected it to be Balthazar’s English accent in his ears, but instead recognised a much more American voice.

_Gabriel?_

Gabriel smirked, grabbing at another chocolate from the box and unwrapping it slowly, popping it into his mouth. He considered replying immediately, but decided against it. Better hear what the voice had to say first.

_Uh…Gabe? Can I call you that? I mean, saying Gabriel all the time is kinda weird; feels too formal…_

Gabriel’s cheeky smirk transformed into a soft smile, as he sent back a reply.

_Sure, kiddo. Even if I told you not to, you’d do it anyway._

_Huh?_

_Oh, nothing. What do you want, kiddo?_

_Could you…come round? You said I didn’t need to see you again, but…I kinda want to._

The archangel’s smile widened. It seemed his supposed ‘last interaction’ was to actually be the first of many more to come.

_Sure, kiddo. Be right there._

Gabriel lifted his hand and snapped.

  



End file.
